All Star Designer
by Mishafied
Summary: Destiel -Dean is a self taught designer who would love to make something other than prom dresses for teenagers in Kansas; Castiel is a damaged soul who wants to prove to himself that he's not worthless. When they both make the cut onto All Star Designer, between the competition, the judgement, and the drama, they just might find a balance in each other. Or kill each other first.
1. You're In

Standing in line between a drag queen named Georgia and two rapid talking women in bright pink all while holding a heavy garment bag, Dean was pretty sure he was going to pass out from heat and boredom before he even got to the part of the line that was indoors.

It was mid April in Kansas, and by all rights it should have still been nice and cool outside, but Mother Nature evidently hated fashion designers and everything they stood for- no pun intended. The sun beat down on them, shining off the dark pavement in a way that would no doubt end in sunburn; and yet somehow Georgia was still dressed to the nines, in a full wig, heavy makeup, and a dress that had more fabric in it than the fabric store nearest to Dean's house. And probably that many kinds of fabric, too.

He had to ask himself why he was even here again, despite the fact that he'd already asked himself that question about seventy times. The answer was the same every time: money. Well, mostly. He pulled out his phone (he was surprised he had battery left, after checking it so often) and read the text message again, partly to keep himself from abandoning his spot in the slowly crawling line. _Bet you two hundred bucks you couldn't get your toe in the door on that show_, the text said, and Dean didn't know where Sam would even get two hundred dollars when he was a broke law major, but that hardly mattered. A bet was a bet, and he didn't have anything to lose, especially not with a round of auditions being held right in Topeka this year.

He was certain he wouldn't be getting those two hundred dollars though, either. He'd only watched a few episodes of All Star Design, but he was still convinced they were looking for the kind of people who used fifty yards of silk chiffon in one dress and then stuck a goose on the model's head and called it 'avant garde' or some shit. They weren't looking for a guy who routinely injected leather and plaid into formal outfits just for the sake of being contrary.

He lifted his gaze from the phone when he heard voices murmuring farther up the line, and he leaned out a little to look ahead. There were two people coming down the line, a man in a suit holding a clipboard, and a woman in a severe looking jacket and pencil skirt. She leaned forward, two fingers holding a strip of fabric from someone's work up ahead, gripping it as if it were some disgusting slimy eel instead of stretch knit. She dropped it with a sneer, and then continued down the line- and occasionally when she stopped to talk to someone, that someone would slink out of the line looking dejected.

The first cut was evidently happening before they even got to the first set of judges. And judging by this lady's outfit and facial expression, Dean was pretty certain he'd be one of those people taking the walk of shame back to their car.

"Oh, boy, don't you worry," Georgia said upon seeing the look on his face. She clapped a huge hand on his shoulder in what was probably meant to be a reassuring gesture but was more bone-jarring. "You're a pretty little thing, you ain't gettin' cut on the first round."

"Uh…thanks?" Dean said, though he wasn't sure it was a compliment, because he really didn't want to make it onto the show just to be the eye candy that gets kicked off first.

Not that he really wanted on the show at all. He would be stuck living with a bunch of elitist couture obsessed pricks for weeks on end, trying to please judges that seemed to have wildly varying standards of what constituted fashion. But hey, he would get two hundred dollars and maybe a boost to his business if he made it a round or two in. Plus a free trip to New York; like hell was he visiting New York City without squeezing in a visit to the Manhattan Car Club.

The woman was making quick work of weeding people out as the line moved forward, and not many people tried to argue with her. Before Dean could even prepare an explanation in his mind for his pieces, something that sounded like he at least somewhat knew what he was doing, she was talking to the woman in front of him. She only took moment to eye the wig skeptically and glance at the garments, her features pinched with disdain as she moved on to Dean.

"Good face," she said, studying Dean like he was at a modeling casting call instead of a designing competition. "Open the bag."

He fumbled to pull the zipper down on the garment bag, and she didn't even wait on him to fully unzip it. She tugged at the flap to see inside, grabbing at the black leather jacket sleeve and pulling it out to look at the seam.

"Good looking and a decent seam. You stay," she said, already moving on to the women behind him. Dean blinked in surprise, his mouth still open from being about to explain the inspiration for the jacket.

"Told you," Georgia said, her southern twang sneaking into her voice. "First cut they're gettin' rid of the unfortunate looking and the ones who can't sew in a straight line. Though, if you're pretty enough, they might let the sewin' pass for now."

Dean chuckled nervously. "You know way too much about all this."

"Tends to happen when this is your fifth season tryin' out," Georgia said with a shrug, though the tone wasn't of the expected disappointment or sadness- just determination. Dean raised an eyebrow, shuffling forward again as the line moved; they were almost to the glass doors of the hotel now.

"Five seasons? You've got more patience than me," he said, and Georgia snorted.

"These wigs aren't cheap, honey," she said, and they were interrupted as another person came down the line with a stack of stickers and a clipboard. She got to Dean and slapped a sticker on the front of his shirt with the number 181 on it.

"Name?" she asked, and she jotted it down on the clipboard as quick as he said it before moving on. It was like a designer assembly line, rolling toward the ballroom of the hotel where the judging was set up. Although he imagined that normal assembly lines didn't have the sound of sobbing thrown in when someone was tossed from the line. He distinctly heard the woman saying to someone farther back "Honey, just go home," her tone practically screaming pity.

Talk about humiliating. He was glad that wasn't him.

Dean had to wonder just how receptive the judges would be after seeing 180 other designers before him. Not to mention the designers that had gotten through because of a 'good face' and not the samples they were carrying- they had to hate seeing those come through the doors. Then again, the first round judges were probably production people who were just looking for the insanely talented and the…well, insane. They always seemed to have that one person each season who seemed to be there just to cause friction.

Once they passed that preliminary check and got numbered, things went fairly quick. The line passed by a table where the filled out applications were turned in, and then they were finally fed into a giant room and sat down in groups, left to wait and listen to numbers being called. When he sat down, the first number he heard called was 164.

It would be a long wait. The time taken with each designer varied wildly; he saw one guy go in with dresses made of just feathers, and he was back out the door in less than thirty seconds, and he looked really angry about it. Another girl was in the room for over ten minutes, as if the judges couldn't decide about her. Most designers disappeared and reappeared in about five minutes, though, so he guessed he had at least an hour and a half wait.

At least he was sitting down in air conditioning now, the garment bags draped over the back of his chair as he studied the other people in the room. Some people were still finishing seams and adding embellishments, sitting on the floor with needle in hand, and he could only cringe at seeing some of the things they'd made. The room was full of ruffles and sequins and feathers and other things that should never have been attached to fabric or worn. Ever. He was pretty sure there was a rabbit skin just glued to the back of one dress.

At the same time, there were some that looked like they were pulled right out of a Versace show, people in perfectly pressed suits and complicated dresses. It was a good reminder that he was just some self-taught part time mechanic from Kansas who happened to have an eye for unique fashion. These judges would laugh him out of the room the second he unzipped that garment bag.

It only made it worse, watching the people leaving the judging room. Most of them didn't look happy- and some looked downright devastated. The whole time he waited, he only saw one person leave that room with a smile, and she didn't look completely sane.

"You look just about as lost as me in all this," a voice said, and Dean turned to look just as a pretty blonde dropped into the chair next to his. Her blonde hair was pulled back into a messy low bun, but he could tell she was good already, if she made what she was wearing- the shirt had amazing detailing on it, the stitches curved into elegant, subtle designs and the appliqué flawless.

"Yeah. I really am," he said with a laugh, holding out his hand. "I'm Dean."

She laid her garment bag across the back of the chair and shook his hand with a cheerful smile. "Jo Harvelle."

"You feel like you'll make it?" he asked, leaning back in his seat as another girl left the judging room crying into her sleeve. Jo shrugged.

"Don't know. Maybe? I don't really know what to expect. I've never watched the show, that's my mom's thing."

"You probably want to marathon a season if you make it through. Last season they made the designers make cocktail dresses out of stuff from a pet store," Dean said, shaking his head. "Never thought Frisbees and leashes could turn out looking like a red carpet piece."

Jo laughed. "Yeah, she did warn me about that stuff. She said, and I quote, 'Joanna Beth, you grew up on a farm, and you damn well better know how to make a dress out of corn husks and horseshoes'." Dean grinned, because he would bet that her mom said exactly that, and it was probably the perfect tone of voice, too.

"Well, if they ask us to make something out of car parts, I'll be in my element," he said, and Jo studied him head to toe.

"Really? You're not just playing the bad boy angle with that look?"

Dean put on a hurt look. "You don't like my look? I'm crushed."

"Yeah, because oil stains as so couture these days," she teased, and Dean looked down at the smear of motor oil on his jeans. Maybe she had a point, but looking for a pair of jeans that wasn't torn or stained in his apartment was like looking for the holy grail in a pile of shit; hopeless, and a messy endeavor.

They fell into easy conversation over a game of Go Fish. Jo had the infinite wisdom to pack a few things in her bag to keep herself entertained- unlike Dean, who had to turn around a few blocks from his apartment to go back and grab his portfolio. Her sticker read 188, so she would be going in after him, and he figured he'd give her a heads-up about the judges in return for the company.

He didn't feel ready at all when his number got called. He stood and grabbed his garment bag with trembling hands, cursing Sam for making him do this in the first place, because he could already hear the ridicule that was sure to come. Jo smiled at him, shuffling the deck with practiced ease.

"Good luck. You better not walk out of there crying," she said, and Dean rolled his eyes and headed for the two people standing by the door wearing production badges.

He wasn't even at the door before one of them was grabbing his arm and ripping the number sticker off his shirt. "Okay, just go in, give them your portfolio, and answer any questions truthfully. And don't look at the camera, just pretend it's not there," the woman said, and Dean nearly tripped.

"Camera?" he repeated, but she was already opening the door and pushing him through. He stumbled in and the first thing he saw was the giant camera hoisted on a guy's shoulder, pointed right at the door – crap, he'd already looked at it- and the second thing he saw was the table where the three judges sat waiting. Two of them he definitely recognized; the first was Bela Talbot, the winner of the last season of All Star Designer and self proclaimed 'genius bitch' (she lived up to the name). The second was Tim Gunn, mentor to the contestants and probably the least frightening person on the show. Dean always wondered if Tim really was that calm and collected, or if he was putting on a sympathetic show.

"Come on in!" Tim called out, and Dean was so used to hearing that voice over TV speakers that it was surreal to hear it in the same room as him. He took a deep breath and stepped up to the table, trying to ignore the camera as he dug his portfolio out of his ragged backpack.

"Well, aren't you just a picture of fashion?" Bela said, her voice practically dripping sarcasm as she studied him head to toe. Dean had kind of been expecting it, though; he was supposedly a 'fashion designer', and here he was, strolling in wearing torn jeans, a faded ACDC t-shirt, a beat up leather jacket, and combat boots.

"Skirts don't fit me so well," he pointed out, and she smirked at him, taking his binder when he held it out. Score one for Dean- not frazzled by Bela's passive aggressive insults.

"Well, I'm Tim Gunn, this is Bela Talbot, and this lovely woman is Marina Hatcher, one of our executive producers," Tim said, gesturing to each in turn. "Tell us who you are and what you do."

Dean tried to talk, found that his mouth was way too dry, and he swallowed hard and tried again to force some words out. "I'm, uh…I'm Dean Winchester, and I'm a mechanic."

All three of them gave him an odd look at that, and he could have kicked himself; they probably meant 'what do you do' as in 'what's your design aesthetic' or something. Marina scratched something down on her notepad, and Tim frowned. "A mechanic?" the man said, his tone one of heavy skepticism.

"Well, I mean, I work as a mechanic most of the time, cause prom dresses don't pay the bills," he said with a shrug as Bela passed his portfolio down the table to Tim. It wasn't exactly an amazing portfolio, not like the embossed custom leather books some people out there had. No, his was a beat up black plastic school binder from Walmart, the pictures shoved into clear plastic sleeves. Nonetheless, he thought there was a pretty good range of stuff in there; he'd done a few wedding dresses, a ton of prom dresses (half of which weren't in there because teenagers request some god awful stuff), and other random outfits he'd made.

"What did you bring with you?" Bela asked, nodding at his garment bag, and he hung it up on the hanger rack that stood by the judging table and unzipped it. Feeling both the judges' eyes and the camera lens focused in on him, he took out the three garments and took them back to the table, handing them over one at a time.

"This is a, uh…a leather jacket I made, it's pretty form fitting. I did some zipper details, and the belt along the bottom, and then I took some saddle soap and sandpaper to it and ran it over a few times," he explained, all his well-planned descriptions failing him as he watched Tim and Bela look over the jacket. Bela looked horrified, though.

"Ran it over? With a car?"

"Well, technically a truck. Gives it character."

Bela still looked a little disturbed as she looked back down at the jacket. After recovering from his method of distressing the leather, though, their eyes gave nothing away as Tim nodded and passed it down the table to Marina. Dean realized Bela was waiting on him, and he fumbled to detangle the next piece, all black suspenders and metal rivets and grommets.

"This was for a girl's senior prom. She wanted something punk rock and told me to go crazy, so…yeah," he said with a shrug, passing the black taffeta and cotton dress across the table.

"You do a lot of prom wear?" Marina asked, eyeing him critically, and Dean nodded.

"Kansas isn't exactly Rodeo Drive. I don't have my own shop to sell from, so most of the commissions I get are by word of mouth for special occasions," he explained with obvious regret. Not that he would want to be clothing the Kardashians or whatever, but the endless ruffles and ribbons of school dances got seriously trying after a while.

"Did you create these yourself?" Tim asked, pointing to the back of the gown, where he had inserted cutouts in the shape of wings and lined them with metal to match the grommets- the girl originally wanted actual feathered wings, but thank God he talked her out of that and into something that wouldn't make her look like a bad Hot Topic outfit.

"Yeah. I'm at the shop all day, so I have access to all the tools there. I like to experiment. And I've only set the place on fire once," he said with no lack of pride- and Marina paled a little.

Yeah, maybe they didn't want people who were a fire risk around their 50 dollar a yard fabric.

"And just why do you want to be on All Star Designer? What makes you believe you would excel?" Bela asked, reaching for his last garment, which was a silk navy and grey draped gown- not his usual style, but he knew walking in here with one type of clothing wouldn't be smart. That and the kid's parents had paid him a shitload of money for that dress, so he'd been able to get the best fabric he could find instead of a cheap knockoff.

"Well, my brother bet me two hundred dollars I wouldn't make the cut, and that would buy a whole lot of alcohol," he said, but when they didn't laugh, he shifted awkwardly and quickly kept talking. "But it _would_ be nice to have my own shop to sell new stuff. I'm really tired of prom dresses."

Tim leaned over and murmured something to Bela as they studied the woven cords of fabric that crisscrossed at the shoulders and back of the dress. Marina was writing something down, the camera was focused right on him, and the silence was stifling; he was waiting for the 'thanks but no thanks' or the 'we don't bring mechanics that run over garments onto fashion shows' or something of the sort.

Tim straightened up and looked at Dean with a smile. "You know, you've got some real talent here. And without any formal training on your application, either. Your point of view is very unique," he said, and Dean couldn't help but straighten up a little and smile, because really? How often do normal people get a compliment like that from Tim Gunn? Show or no show, he could go home happy now. Maybe have the quote done in needlepoint and framed.

"Thank you," he managed, though that felt weak in comparison to the compliment. Marina looked at Tim, and they seemed to manage to have a conversation without a single word actually being spoken before Tim looked back at Dean.

"Congratulations. We'd like to move you on to the last phase of auditions," he said, and for a moment Dean stood shock still, because he was still processing what he'd heard. It was impossible. Maybe this was a candid camera thing, maybe it was all a set up by Sam to get back at him for the whole Nair in the shampoo bottle debacle.

But as far as he knew, Sam couldn't afford to pay Tim Gunn off for a prank.

"Really?" he said, his heart thudding in his chest as Tim nodded and handed his garments back to him.

"Really. We'd like to see more," he explained, taking a paper from Marina and holding it out. "We'd like you to make a biography video, between 2 and 3 minutes long. Show us your workspace, your family, your inspiration, and some more of your work, and tell us why we should bring you out to New York. The email address to send it to is on here, and you've got two weeks to turn it in."

Dean had just finished haphazardly stuffing the garments back into the garment bag, and he took the paper, trying to keep his hands steady as he glanced it over.

"Wow. This is…thank you. I really can't thank you enough," he said, stopping to shake all their hands before picking up his portfolio and heading for the door. He nearly tripped over his own garment bag as he left the room, feeling lightheaded and a little giddy, like those teenage girls acted on prom night.

He was in the last phase of auditions. They actually _liked_ him. _Tim Gunn_ liked his work. It seemed fantastical, like he imagined the whole thing, but the instruction paper for the video was still clutched tight in his hand.

Jo was waiting not far away, and she lit up when she saw him. "I'm guessing it went well?" she asked, and Dean nodded, still feeling dumbstruck.

"Yeah. I'm in the last round. They actually liked it," he said, as if he couldn't believe his own words. She grinned at him.

"I had a feeling they would. Who's in there, anyway?"

"Tim, one of the producers, and Bela," he said, and Jo frowned.

"Wait, Bela as in 'my mom wanted to call the network and chew them out for letting such a manipulative bitch win the whole thing' Bela?"

"That'd be the one," Dean asked, expecting her to wince or something, because Bela's reputation definitely preceded her- but instead, Jo squared her shoulders with a smirk.

"This'll be fun. Hopefully I'll see you in New York," she said, and Dean hesitated a moment.

"Want me to stay till they call you? I don't mind."

"No, go on, get outta here. Waiting around is a bitch," she said, and Dean gave her a sincere 'good luck' before he headed for the door. He really did hope that she would get through to the show- she was spunky. She was the kind of girl who would meet a contestant like Bela and make them eat their own words the whole season.

Obviously his giddiness was showing as he made his way past the line to the exit, because he got more than a few scowls and a few half-hearted congratulations. He was running on autopilot up until he stepped out into the afternoon heat, when he realized that he sort of needed to put his portfolio away and get his keys out if he planned to actually drive home.

But first, he was going to call Sam and gloat.

* * *

Life went back to normal after that. Dean made the video with the help of Garth, a scrawny coworker who nonetheless was a damn good mechanic, and once he sent it off he tried to forget about it. He didn't want to stress over something so unlikely, so farfetched; he didn't even tell his boss at the shop about it. Bobby would have gotten a kick out of the idea of Dean auditioning for some TV show. He would never hear the end of it.

It got easier to forget about it as the weeks passed with no word. By the middle of May he'd completely written it off, getting back into the rhythm of working at the shop in the morning and spending the afternoon working on a few graduation party gowns he'd been commissioned to do. He figured the whole thing would be a nice story to tell- remember that time when Tim Gunn said I had real talent? Yeah, that was a great time.

So when his cell phone rang while he was on a creeper under the front end of a Mitsubishi, he wasn't expecting anything exciting. He flipped it open and tucked the phone against his head, continuing to work even as he said a casual 'hello?' over the sound of a motor sputtering in the next bay.

"Hello, is this Dean Winchester?" an unfamiliar voice asked, and Dean paused, pulling his hands out of the car's guts and actually paying attention. If this was a sales call, he was going to be royally pissed.

"Yeah, that's me. Who are _you_?" he shot back.

"This is Marina Hatcher, executive producer of All Star Designer. We'd like to invite you out to New York."

Dean nearly hit his head on the underside of the car. "What?" he said, already shoving himself out from under the car, sitting up on the creeper and leaning back against the front bumper. He didn't hear that correctly. He couldn't have.

"You've made the final cut. We'd like you to come compete in New York," Marina said, and Dean's mind raced, trying to catch up with what he'd just heard.

They wanted him on the show. They wanted him to come to New York and compete on the show. He took a moment to pinch himself, knowing it was cliché, but this would be one hell of a cruel dream for his subconscious to dredge up.

"Wow. I, uh…sure. Yeah. I can do that," he said, the words coming out clumsy and stilted. Marina was all business, though; she was probably used to reactions that were less stupefied and more unbridled joy. She was probably grateful he didn't scream into the phone or something.

"Glad to hear it. We start filming on the 30th, so I'm going to have you fly in on the 29th. I'll email you your plane ticket and a guide on what to pack," she said, and he suddenly realized that she meant the 29th of _this_ month. Not next month or the month after.

"That's like…two weeks," he said, a little panicked as he wondered how he was going to explain this to Bobby, if he had enough in his bank account to prepay a few months' rent, and hell, maybe he should pick up some new jeans too.

"Right. We like to get things moving in the summer when Brighton's School of Design is on the limited summer courses," Marina explained. "Everything will be in the email, alright? Have a look over it and email me back if you have any questions."

Garth was giving Dean a strange look, probably because Dean was equal parts terrified and elated, and it probably made for an interesting expression on his face as they said their goodbyes and hung up. He stared at the phone, replaying the whole conversation in his head, wondering if _this_ part was some kind of prank- but no, Sam would've pulled this a lot sooner, not over a month later.

"Dean, you okay?" Garth asked, and he looked a little concerned now. Dean nodded, taking a deep breath.

"I'm okay. I'm good," he said, trying to convince himself as much as Garth. "I made it on the show."

"The show?"

It was beginning to set in, the excitement taking over as the disbelief left him. "All Star Designer. They just called. They want me on the show."

"Man, that's great! I love that show!" Garth said, pulling Dean into an exuberant hug like he did for nearly every good thing that happened in their lives. One time he hugged Dean for changing a light bulb. Seriously.

Now he needed to tell Bobby. And his mother. And Sam, too, because he wanted that two hundred dollars, thank you very much. And he needed to finish all his current commissions before he left. He had two weeks to press the pause button on real life before he had to fly out to New York. He had so much shit to do it wasn't even funny, and it all got dumped on his shoulders at once.

The worst part was the idea of a plane ticket, though. Maybe he could convince them to let him drive there.

* * *

They didn't let him drive.

When he stepped off the plane and onto solid ground, he still felt woozy and sick and not ready for any kind of competition. It was only the third time in his life he'd been on an airplane, and that was three times too many. He sat down for a few minutes just to get his bearings before he decided he couldn't put it off any longer; he headed for the baggage claim, where a driver was supposed to meet him. And also a camera crew.

They didn't sugar coat things in the guidelines they sent out. They pretty much wrote that other than a few hours in the middle of the night and the bathrooms, you were going to be on camera 24-7 for the entire time you were there. The cameras stayed till you were asleep, and were back before your alarm even went off.

He wasn't looking forward to that part.

He was, however, looking forward to meeting the other designers who had made it onto the show. They refused to give him names or anything, and though he knew it was a long shot, he seriously hoped Jo had made it. Then there would be at least one guaranteed tolerable person here with him.

Maybe Georgia even made it. Sixth time's the charm, right?

Probably not.

The moment he stepped through the security checkpoint, he spotted a blonde guy in a suit and slicked back hair holding up a card with his last name written in large block letters- as if he wouldn't notice the guy with him holding a giant camera. He steeled his will and took a deep breath, hiking his backpack higher on his shoulder as he walked over to them.

"Dean Winchester?" the man asked, and Dean nodded, eyeing the camera with trepidation. The cameraman smiled and gave a half wave, the top of his head maybe reaching Dean's collarbone. He was a small guy wearing a ridiculous Hawaiian shirt, his black hair styled into a Mohawk- pretty much the exact opposite of sign guy.

"That's me."

"Don't worry, it's not on yet. I need to get you miked up," the cameraman said as he set the camera down gingerly. He dug into his bag and pulled out a small black box and a ton of wire- a microphone. He hadn't thought about that. He would have to wear one of these things for weeks. Oh joy.

Dean's first foray with the TV experience was to have a total stranger stick his hand down the back of his jeans, then shove a hand under his shirt to hook up the battery pack, run the wire, and clip the microphone to the collar of his shirt. He was tempted to make some smart-ass comment about the guy not even buying him dinner first, but the suited man made his little obviously pre-planned speech as the cameraman worked.

"I'm your driver, Dave. We'll get your suitcase, then Nile here will get a shot of you walking out of the airport to the car, then you'll be camera free till we get to Saturn Apartments. Sound good?" he asked, and while it didn't sound particularly _good_, Dean nodded anyway- at least the camera wouldn't be on the whole ride.

"Just pretend the camera isn't here and you'll be golden. Only time you should ever look at the camera is in the confessional room," Nile said as he picked the camera back up.

It was a step beyond weird to have a camera pointed at him as he went to the baggage claim and retrieved his suitcase from the belt. It didn't help that the camera was grabbing attention, so not only was he on camera, but people were staring and trying to figure out who he was despite the fact that he wasn't anyone yet. Dean felt a whole lot better once they'd sat down in the back of the long black car, Nile fiddling with his camera beside him.

He tried to ask questions about the apartments and what they would be doing tonight, but Nile was tight lipped; he was evidently strictly forbidden to do anything more than discuss the weather with him, pretty much. Though he did find out that Nile had been a camera operator for the show since season three, which meant that he was definitely going to be looking for the Hawaiian shirt if he had any questions he thought the guy was actually allowed to answer.

It wasn't a boring ride, conversation or not; Dean watched out the window as they drove into the heart of the city, glass and steel buildings reaching up to the sky on either side of the street and every conceivable type of person walking the sidewalks. It seemed like the cab drivers had their own language made entirely out of honking and creative maneuvering. Dean was happy now that he didn't drive Baby up here- the cramped city streets and crazy drivers would have given him an aneurism.

They pulled to a stop beside a tall modern looking building, and Nile got out first, hoisting the camera back onto his shoulder as Dean got out and hauled his suitcase out of the trunk. He gave Nile a look, and the man shook his head.

"Not filming again yet. You've gotta go through the search and sign your last contracts," he said, and Dean sighed- he'd printed and signed and scanned what seemed like dozens of documents in the past two weeks. Releases, rules agreements, agreeing not to sue them for anything- they had it all covered.

David led him inside and to a conference room, where two production assistants- PA's, they were called- dragged his suitcase onto the table and started going through everything in it. He'd read the list carefully of things that weren't permitted, so all he really had were his clothes and his basic sewing kit- though he did feel a pang of regret when after he signed the last contract, they told him to hand his phone over.

No phones, no iPods, no magazines, no books- they weren't allowed to have anything that could connect to the outside world or that could keep them entertained enough to ignore their fellow competitors. After all, they wouldn't have nearly as much drama if everyone was off in corners reading or had headphones stuffed in their ears.

He just hoped they let him call home occasionally. They said use of the designer team cell phone was on a case-by-case basis, and that they probably wouldn't be allowed any calls at all for the first five weeks or so. They would be completely isolated.

He was beginning to understand why so many people seemed to lose it more and more as the competition went on.

"Alright, everything looks good!" one of the PAs declared, grabbing a key from a nearby table and holding it out. "You're in 15B, and you'll have two roommates to start with. One is already up there, so go ahead and get settled, and we'll get in touch once you're all here!"

She was far too cheerful about this. Dean thanked her and took the key, lifting his suitcase off the table and back onto the floor- and when he left the conference room, Nile was waiting in the lobby, the red light on his camera on.

Don't look at the camera. Right. He was already screwing up again.

He made his way to the elevator, Nile following alongside him as he stepped inside; he would never be used to just standing there, ignoring a camera that was pointed right at him, as if waiting for him to fall on his face. Which would end up getting aired if it happened, he had no doubt. Hell, last season a girl had an allergy attack and got shuttled off to the hospital, and the cameras covered a disturbing amount of that debacle. They thrived on pain and tears, he was sure of it.

The hallway of the fifteenth floor was dimly lit, with smooth white tile floors and light green walls. The plaque on the wall across from the elevator directed him to the right for his room, which was the second to last apartment from the end of the hall.

He stopped for a moment, staring at the silver '15B' hanging on the door; he was about to meet one of the people he'd be stuck here with for weeks. Maybe months, if both of them lasted that long. He could practically feel the camera lens at his shoulder as he turned the key and opened the door.

The apartment already looked nice at first glance, definitely nicer than his crappy one bedroom place back in Lawrence. To the right of the door there was a small kitchen with all the appliances, and past that a 'living room' space with two couches and a coffee table. The stand where the TV would normally sit was conspicuously empty, but that was no surprise. The floor was a light colored laminate wood, which was a nice contrast to the white walls with varying shades and sizes of green stripes running horizontally. Not overpowering, just a nice splash of color.

God, even his inner monologues sounded like designer talk already.

"Hello?" he called out, not sure if his roommate was in the bedroom to the right or the left, but he didn't have to wonder for long. The man who emerged from the right bedroom was slender, with messy dark brown hair, slight stubble, and striking blue eyes, the kind of eyes that managed to make Dean do a double take. He was wearing dark pants and a white button-up, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, showing off slightly tan skin and lean muscles.

Okay, Dean normally leaned more toward the feminine side of potential romance, but it felt like an anvil just got dropped on the 'gay' end of his Kinsey Scale.

"Sorry, I was unpacking," the guy said, his voice lower and rougher than Dean expected. He held out his hand, and Dean shook it firmly.

"No problem. Dean Winchester," he said, the camera hovering just behind him before Nile scooted over to get a good angle of both of them.

"Castiel Novak."

Dean raised an eyebrow. "Castiel, huh?" he said, and the man chuckled and shook his head.

"I know, I know. You don't even have to say it," he said, and Dean left it alone for now, figuring that the poor guy probably got a lot of nosey questions about the weird name. "Both the bedrooms have two beds. You can wait till our third gets here to decide on a room, if you want."

Dean shrugged. "Doesn't matter to me. Just gonna be dumping my clothes into a drawer anyway," he pointed out, earning a strange look from Castiel, which didn't surprise him- after all, the guy looked like a walking menswear advertisement. The idea of just throwing a bunch of jeans and t-shirts into a suitcase and calling it good would probably horrify the poor guy.

Turned out, though, they didn't have long to wait. The door swung open, nearly hitting Dean's suitcase, and at first Dean was tempted to tell the guy he had the wrong apartment. He was pretty sure an Asian kid that didn't look a day over 18 wasn't here for All Star Designer, because the age limit was 21.

"Hi!" the kid said with a grin, dragging his suitcase in and kicking the door shut behind him. "You're my roommates, huh?"

"Guess so," Dean said, shaking the kid's hand; he had a surprisingly firm grip. "Dean Winchester."

"Castiel Novak," Castiel said, reaching past Dean to shake their roommate's hand.

"Kevin Tran," the kid said, dropping his duffel bag on the floor. Dean felt a little better now- sure, the kid was in a button-up too, but it was untucked and wrinkled from travel, and he was wearing jeans with it. Dean didn't feel like such a slob anymore.

"Are you seriously 21?" he asked, not able to help but wonder, and Kevin rolled his eyes- evidently he'd expected the question. Or had been dreading it. Either way.

"Turned 21 last week. Just in time," he said, just as there was the soft sound of an envelope sliding under the door. Kevin turned around and picked it up, the 'All Star Designer' logo standing out in gold on the front, and he nearly tore the envelope in his haste to get it open.

"Designers," he read, eyes skimming the letter with unbridled excitement. "Welcome to the Saturn Apartments. Please get settled in and then join Tim and Gabriel on the roof for a toast to our season 7 competitors."

That certainly moved things along. Kevin offered to share a room with Dean, and they made short work of getting unpacked before meeting Castiel in the living room. Dean was getting more anxious by the second to meet the designers he'd be competing against, and it was a great distraction from the constant hovering presence of the camera.

"Where are you guys from?" Kevin asked as they made their way to the elevator.

"Kansas," Dean said, and Kevin winced.

"Oh man. That's, uh…kind of the middle of nowhere, isn't it?" he asked and Dean laughed and shrugged.

"Guess so, but let me tell you, the Midwest has some amazing pie and damn good whiskey. I'm not suffering," he said as the three of them got into the elevator and Nile followed close with his camera. Dean punched the button for the roof, and then raised an eyebrow at Castiel.

"I'm from here. New York City," Castiel finally said, still standing stiff; every time he got pulled into conversation, he just seemed to be that much more awkward about it. Like he wasn't used to talking to people in the first place. But hey, all designers were kind of strange people, in his experience.

"I'm from Michigan. Step above Kansas, I think, but a few notches below New York City," Kevin said with a shrug, his hands shoved in the pockets of his jeans as the elevator rose. "Miss my girlfriend already, though."

Dean snorted. "You aren't gonna last long if you're already pining over it," he pointed out, and Kevin elbowed him.

"I'll last longer than you, for sure," he said playfully, and Dean smirked.

"We betting on that?"

"Isn't it a little premature to bet before you see his work?" Castiel asked, a hint of amusement to his tone. The elevator door slid open, and Castiel led the way to the roof access door as Kevin gave Dean a mischievous look.

"I'll bet the tab on an evening at a bar. I stay longer on the show, you cover my tab. You stay longer, and I'll pick yours up."

"Not sure you could afford my tab for one night of drinking."

"Please, I went to design school. I've seen 90 pound girls run up a tab that would kill a moose."

"A moose? Really, Kevin?"

Their banter had to stop when they stepped onto the roof, but that wasn't a bad thing- because the view was incredible. The sun was setting, casting the skyscrapers in a beautiful orange and yellow glow, slowly dipping into silhouette. He was used to sunsets where you could see miles in every direction, but this had its own kind of beauty, he had to admit.

The view had to wait, though- because someone tackled him in a tight hug, and he nearly fell over before he realized who it was.

"Jo! You made it!" he said, returning the hug. That was a huge relief; Kevin seemed cool, and now Jo was here, and Castiel…well, he was still trying to figure out Castiel, but the guy didn't seem half bad. Just…strange.

"Knew I'd see you here," Jo said with a smile, and then she was grabbing him by the arm and dragging him over to two women standing by the ledge of the roof. "Dean, these are my awesome roommates. This is Jody, and that's Charlie. Girls, this is Dean," she said, gesturing to the brunette, then the redhead.

"Nice to meet you," Charlie said, and her smile was infectious- he found himself smiling in return already. "So, did you get good roomies, or did you get saddled with old and creepy over there?"

"Old and creepy?" Dean repeated, following her gaze to where a balding man in a perfectly pressed black suit was standing next to Tim. And talking his ear off, by the looks of it. "Nah, I got lucky. I got Kevin and Castiel. They seem tolerable," he said, and he was only half joking, because there was a good chance the longer they were here the less tolerable people would be.

"Which ones are they?" Jody asked, and Dean pointed them out. Kevin was talking to a knockout of a woman with long, curly brown hair and tanned skin who was probably ten years older than him, and Castiel was being his awkward self, standing next to a tall blonde man in a deep V-neck shirt; the blonde seemed to be doing all the talking.

"Dude, if I weren't skewed the other way, I would totally be hitting on that," Charlie said as she eyed Castiel, and Dean couldn't help but laugh.

"Kind of a weird guy. Socially awkward, I guess."

"Then he's probably some kind of genius that will kick all of our asses on this," Jody pointed out, and Dean wondered for a moment- awkward genius, or awkward normal guy who was brought on the show because he was awkward? They'd be finding out really soon, that was for sure.

The door to the roof opened again, and this time it was a familiar face- Gabriel Milton, actor, fashion designer, and host of All Star Designer for all 6 seasons so far. Dean already had three words in mind to describe him by the end of the first episode: self-absorbed dick. Not that he was going to come out and say it.

"Designers, huddle up!" Gabriel said, and PAs darted in from seemingly nowhere and lined them up carefully, making sure the shorter designers were in front. Dean was seriously temped to prop an elbow on Kevin's head while they listened.

"Congrats on making it onto season seven," Gabriel said, his voice just as dramatic and ridiculous as it sounded on the TV with the full mood music going. "I'm sure you know Tim Gunn. And I'm sure you know me. And you'll definitely get to know each other _really_ well."

"Is that optional?" a voice purred from the end of the front line, coming from a pale woman with dark hair that fell in loose waves around her face. He could already tell just from three words and the sassy tone that she was a whole lot of personality in a tiny body.

"Well, I said you'll get to know them, but you're not required to like them," Gabriel pointed out, pulling the champagne out of the silver bucket of ice. "Take the time to relax and have a drink now, designers, because starting tomorrow you won't remember what the word relax even means," he continued, and then he popped the cork free. Dean took the moment to study the competitors he hadn't met yet; other than the blonde dude in the V-neck and the two hot girls, there was creepy old dude, a tall girl who looked more like the girl next door type with straight brown hair half pulled back, and a brick wall of a guy with a brownish blonde beard and a driving cap on his head.

They definitely had a good mix of unique looking people here, and they were probably all talented in their own way- and a good amount of them were probably like Kevin, with years of designing school behind them.

Someone shoved a champagne glass into Dean's hand, and Tim called for a toast, but the whole time he lifted his glass he only had one thought on his mind:

He was _so_ going to get kicked off the first week.


	2. At Your Convenience

They really weren't kidding; the first thing Dean saw when he opened his eyes to shut off his alarm was the lens of a camera.

He let out a string of curses that would definitely be censored if it made it to the air, tempted to shove the camera away, but he managed to restrain himself and smacked the alarm instead. The red numbers read 5:00am, and he groaned and dropped his head back on the pillow.

"Oh my god, is it really five in the morning?" he heard Kevin grumble from the other bed, and Dean didn't bother to answer. He didn't answer questions at five in the morning.

He eventually managed to drag himself out of bed, then grabbed some random clothes from the drawer and went into the bathroom and kicked the door shut behind him. This was the only place the cameras couldn't follow them; not that they wouldn't. He was sure they would be in here right now if they were allowed.

He was pretty much a zombie as he pulled his clothes on and made sure his hair wasn't doing anything absolutely crazy. This early he wasn't aiming for perfect, just 'good enough', and once he finished he relinquished the bathroom to an equally zombie-fied Kevin.

Somehow, inexplicably, Castiel was already up and fully dressed in dark grey pants and a matching vest over a white button-up, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows as he sipped at a cup of coffee. Dean sort of grunted a greeting, and Castiel replied by tipping his cup toward the coffee machine, where there was still plenty of hot coffee waiting.

"Thanks," Dean managed as he grabbed a cup and poured some for himself. He didn't even wait on it to cool before he took a swallow and sighed. Yesterday he felt like he needed to fill all the silences when the camera was pointed at him, but right now he really could not have cared less.

"There was a note," Castiel said, holding up a blue card with the All Star Designer logo on one side. "We're to meet in the lobby at six."

"Joy."

Castiel nearly laughed, more of an amused snort, and Dean wondered what it would take to get the guy to actually laugh. Or actually smile, for that matter, because he knew when someone was faking a smile, and that was all he'd seen Castiel do since he'd met the guy.

When Kevin joined them they finally got some semblance of motivation, which ended in bowls of cereal for all three of them. None of them felt the need to try and have a conversation, which suited Dean just fine, and at fifteen till six they headed down to the lobby of the building.

The only other people there were the other three guys in the equally split competition, and introductions were done all around- evidently 'old and creepy' from yesterday was Zachariah, the guy who only owned ridiculously deep cut V-necks was Balthazar, and the guy with the beard was Benny. Dean immediately knew he would like Benny best; the guy was pleasant and laid back, with a thick Louisiana accent that he didn't even try to cover up.

"I mainly do my work in Europe. More avant-garde," Balthazar was saying to Kevin, practically reeking of smarmy British arrogance. Of course, Zachariah wasn't much better.

"I own a store down in Philadelphia," the older man said, and then he proceeded to study Dean from head to toe with disdain. "Dare I ask what you specialize in?"

"Oh, I deal mostly in the classics. I'm handy on a V8 327 4 barrel engine," he replied with a smirk, just to see the look on the guy's face. It didn't disappoint, and he heard Kevin trying not to laugh, too.

"I didn't realize this was 'All Star Mechanic'."

"Yeah, they're just letting anyone in these days," Dean said, and Zachariah scoffed and turned away to greet Charlie and her roommates as they arrived.

Dean didn't need to explain himself to any of these people, or defend himself from their underestimations of him when they hadn't even seen his work yet. As far as he was concerned, no one had gotten through that audition by being a shitty designer. Hell, he was pretty convinced that Kevin was probably some kind of prodigy and going to kick all their asses on the runway.

"Good morning!" Jo said as she threw an arm around Dean's shoulders with a bright smile. "You guys look so happy today," she joked, and Dean rolled his eyes.

"How are you even smiling this early? Go away," he muttered, and she laughed and poked his nose.

"Cheer up. Our first challenge is today, gotta be awake for that."

"Says who?"

"Says me," Tim said from the glass doors, about the same time as the last three contestants stepped out of the elevator. Aside from Jo, everyone looked about as equally thrilled to be up at six in the morning. Tim was his usual self, clothes impeccable and not looking at all like he'd just gotten out of bed.

"Good morning designers!" he said, and he received some muttered greetings in return. He laughed. "Try to wake up. We're going to take a field trip to get to your first challenge."

Tim turned and led the way outside, where two white vans waited at the curb. The cameramen immediately went for the front passenger seats, so Dean followed Kevin and Benny to the back of one of the vans, climbing inside and into the backseat with them. Castiel, Jo, and Jody got into the other seat, and the van was moving even before they pulled the door all the way shut.

"Watch, they're going to take us to a lumber yard. We'll be making cocktail dresses out of two by fours," Jo said with a laugh, and Dean saw Castiel wince just at the thought.

"Not unless the models have signed waivers on splinters," Dean pointed out, watching out the window as they drove farther into the city center. Even this early the streets were busy and the sidewalks full of people; it probably looked like this 24-7. He was so used to Kansas, where the only people up before sunrise were the people milking cows.

They didn't drive very long. The vans pulled over and everyone piled out, and the production assistants driving the vans told them where to stand and what direction to face; because everything had to be just so, evidently. It was these kind of things you missed just from watching the show as a viewer.

He didn't see anything that looked like a challenge, though. There were a bunch of random stores, and Tim was right here, but they were clueless. Tim clapped his hands together and waited until the cameras got in position to start speaking.

"Alright, designers," he started, eyes moving across the group and making eye contact with just about everyone. His presence was warm from the start, the kind of person who you knew from the first moment would be a friend. "One of the most important qualities of a designer is innovation. An all star designer must be able to use novel techniques, and lead the way. The best designers are risk takers. So, your first challenge will be all about risk taking and innovation. That said, this store right here is where you will find the materials for your garment."

Tim gestured behind him, and Dean frowned, because the only thing behind him was a big convenience store. And that couldn't be…

Oh. It totally was.

They were making clothes from stuff out of a _convenience store_.

"You've got to be joking," he heard Balthazar say, and he wasn't alone- there were matching cries of disbelief from about half the group, while the other half was silently panicking. Like Dean. Hell, the only thing he ever got from convenience stores was awful beer and toilet paper. Neither of those could make a decent looking garment. Except for the football day beer can helmet Garth had once thrown together, and that was a travesty.

Then again, that was Garth. Maybe…

"You will have fifty dollars to spend, and 20 minutes to shop. And I must warn you, the judges are not fond of outfits that contain a lot of fabric-like material. So if you're going to use garbage bags or tablecloths, the onus is on you to blow their socks off," Tim explained.

"This is a joke," Zachariah muttered as Tim handed out the envelopes containing their money. Dean was busy trying to remember everything that was in a normal convenience store that he could use to his advantage, but he didn't get much time to think; the show evidently didn't like to leave them much planning time on the unconventional materials challenge.

"Your 20 minutes starts…now," Tim said, and Dean nearly got knocked over by one of the girls as she ran past him and into the store. He followed her in, and watched as she and Zachariah went straight for the garbage bags.

Idiots.

Dean decided he had to take a risk. Sure, he could pick up something easier to work with, but that wouldn't get him any brownie points with the judges; instead, he went straight for the refrigerated cases in the back and started lifting out cases of beer, counting in his head as he stacked them up.

He looked up when he saw someone else at the refrigerated doors; it was Castiel, who looked deep in thought as he began to collect plastic wrapped sets of bottled water. He was tempted to ask Castiel if he was going to send his model down the runway in a see-thru dress, but they didn't have time for quips right now. Instead, he looked at his stack of beer, had a thought, and went to the section of limited hardware items.

He emptied the entire rack of zip ties, though he paused when he heard an argument going on. It wasn't any of the contestants- no, one of the production assistants was standing by the counter, arguing with Tim as Balthazar stood beside them looking quite satisfied with himself.

"We can't air that! He can't buy those!" the production assistant said, her voice shrill as she pointed at the counter. Dean laughed when he realized what it was- Balthazar had dozens of value boxes of condoms stacked up on the counter. The poor clerk had her hands hovering over the register, not sure whether or not to ring him up.

"He's within the rules of the challenge. We made no caveats for behind the counter items and he is within budget," Tim pointed out, and the production assistant fumed before turning her attention to Balthazar.

"You likely won't be eligible to win the challenge if you use those, you know that," she snapped, and Balthazar smirked.

"Yes, but when else will I have the chance to make a dress out of condoms on national TV?"

Okay, maybe Dean liked the guy a little better now.

Dean gathered up the zip ties and cases of beer and lugged everything up to the counter, and Tim raised an eyebrow at him as the clerk rung everything up.

"Are the beverages for you, or for the garment?" he asked, and Dean laughed.

"Probably both, depending on how this goes."

His total came up to just over 48 dollars, and he paid and gathered his things, waiting by the door for the other designers to finish. The nice thing about checking out second was that he got a chance to see what everyone else bought.

Castiel had spent his entire budget on bottled water. In fact, there were so many cases of it that once Benny had checked out with two bags full of newspapers, he helped Castiel move all the bottled water to the door; otherwise it may have taken quite a few trips. Kevin and Jody were right behind them, Kevin with magazines and Jody with toilet paper and saran wrap.

That…was a little scary.

The three girls that Dean hadn't gotten to meet yet were the next in line, and he asked Benny their names as they checked out- Meg, a petite brunette, had boxes and boxes of teabags and coffee, Ruby had garbage bags but actually looked rather confident about it, and Sarah had a ton of plastic bags and miscellaneous crap.

Zachariah was the other person with garbage bags, but he didn't look confident about it- he looked frustrated and angry, most of all. Charlie and Jo got to the counter just before Tim yelled time; Charlie had filled bags and bags with all kinds of candy, mostly Skittles. Jo, meanwhile, had emptied the store of playing cards, which now that Dean thought about it, could look really cool if she constructed it right.

Tim made sure everyone was ready to go, and they headed back to the vans, piling the materials in the back- once again, Benny helped Castiel with his materials, and Castiel actually smiled- _really_ smiled- and thanked him. And that smile, okay- it may have made Dean's heart do a little skip.

He couldn't help it. The guy was weird, but he _was_ hot.

Though he wasn't sure what Castiel was going to do with a bunch of clear water bottles. The guy either had a plan, or he was grasping at straws trying to be unique, and it was impossible to tell the difference just by looking at him.

"I hope they've got tough sewing machines, because I've gotta get cardboard through 'em," Jo sad with a laugh, and Dean remember the boxes and boxes of playing cards she'd stacked on the counter.

"I'm gonna laugh if you break a machine on day one," he teased, earning a smack on the shoulder for it.

"Did you guys see Zachariah buying garbage bags? That's not gonna go well," Kevin pointed out with a laugh. Dean glanced at Castiel, but it seemed like he wasn't really listening to the conversation going on; he was staring out the window with his chin propped on his hand, probably thinking about what he was going to do for his garment. Dean probably should have been thinking about it, too, really.

They got to Brighton's School of Design, and Tim led them up to the workroom. Each designer had a workspace with a large table, their sewing kit they brought, and a dress form, and on the table was a card with their model's measurements on it.

"Your models have been assigned randomly," Tim explained. "And I hope you bond well with them, because this season, there will be no changing models."

Dean didn't like the sound of that; he'd rarely had a chance to work with actual, professional models, being stuck in the Midwest, but he'd heard the horror stories. The last thing he wanted was to be stuck with a total diva who he couldn't stand to be around.

"Work quickly, designers. You have until midnight to finish this challenge," Tim said, and there was a rush of disbelief through the room. Dean's jaw dropped- till midnight, for this? Shit. Shit shit shit.

Tim left them to their work, and the PA announced that they were required to take a lunch break and a dinner break, and required to eat something at both breaks. Dean understood the rule; he'd heard about contestants in past seasons who skipped meals and ended up passing out. While that made for great TV drama, it was probably a liability.

He dragged his cases of beer to the sink and pulled up a chair, and moments later he found himself joined by Castiel- they both had to empty out all the containers they'd bought. It was a little easier to watch the water go down the drain than the beer, though.

"Sure you can't save some of that?" Benny asked Dean with a chuckle, and Dean snorted.

"I wish."

Dean watched for a moment as Castiel methodically emptied out the bottled water, set the cap aside in one pile, then peeled the label off and set it in another pile. "You have a plan for all that?" he asked, and Castiel thought for a moment.

"Not yet," he said as he studied one of the caps. "I'll have to experiment a little."

"Better experiment fast. Only have till midnight."

Castiel eyed the beer can in Dean's hand. "Don't work too fast. Cut aluminum is sharp," he pointed out, and Dean grinned.

"I'm not gonna cut it."

Both of them looked up when they heard muttering across the room, where Zachariah was trying to drape a garbage bag on his mannequin- unfortunately, garbage bags weren't exactly built for Grecian draping, so it wasn't going well for him, and he wasn't taking it well, either.

It took way too long to get all the cans drained of beer, and now the whole room smelled like cheap beer- but it also smelled heavily of coffee and tea, with Meg having her entire workstation covered in teabags and coffee bags. All in all, the smells in the room were giving him a headache.

"Here, have some candy," Charlie said from the table behind him as she scooted a bowl toward him. The bowl was full of the candy she'd taken out of the wrappers, and Dean definitely wasn't turning that down, and grabbed a handful of candy.

"Thanks," he said, studying a beer can before setting it upright on the floor. He slammed his boot down on it with a loud crunch, making Ruby jump from across the aisle where she was balling up pieces of garbage bags. She shot him a dirty look, and he just shrugged, not really sorry about it.

The can ended up how he wanted it- a mostly flattened silver circle of aluminum with a hint of color along the outer edge. He set to work doing the same to the rest, smashing them one at a time into the shape that he needed.

It was quiet for a while after that, aside from the rustling and snapping sounds of their work. The cameras moved around the room, focusing on each of them in turn while people snuck over to Charlie's station to steal candy every few minutes. Dean occasionally glanced up to see what the closest people to him were doing, and while Benny looked like he was making progress on his newspaper dress, Castiel's workstation on Dean's left still looked like a mess of plastic and caps. He didn't look worried, though, just concentrating- and now that he was working, he was wearing glasses, which was unfairly attractive.

"I wonder what my model looks like," Charlie said, pinning rows of candy wrappers together.

"Already planning to hit on her?" Dean asked, and Charlie grinned.

"Only if she's really cute. I have a type, thank you very much," she said. "What about you? Have a girl waiting at home? Or a boy?" she asked.

"Nah, just family. Well, except my brother, he's out at Stanford."

"Stanford? Serious business," Charlie said, and Dean smiled.

"Yeah, he's too smart for his own good. And they'd better not air that or he'll never let me live it down," he said, looking over at Benny, who had the workstation in front of him. "What about you?"

Benny smiled. "Got a girl at home. Andrea," he said, obviously lost in thought about it. "Love of my life, brother. Doin' this for her."

"That's so sweet," Charlie said with a sigh, and then she grabbed a yardstick and leaned over her table to poke Castiel on the shoulder with it. "Got anybody waitin' for you back home, Cas?" she asked, and Castiel stiffened, not taking his eyes off the plastic pieces in his hands.

"What I have is a lot of work to do, if you don't mind," he said, and Dean blinked in surprise.

"Fine, geez. Work away," Charlie said, going back to the wrappers with a confused look.

Maybe Castiel was just one of those people who couldn't talk and concentrate on work at the same time. Or maybe he was just an asshole.

Dean thought he had enough of the cans squashed down to aluminum circles now; he dumped the zip ties out on the table, grabbed a pair of crappy scissors so he didn't ruin his good ones, and he set to work stabbing holes in the aluminum and threading zip ties through the aluminum discs. By the time Tim came in to meet with them, Dean realized he'd been working for hours stabbing holes in the aluminum and joining the cans together, and finishing seemed impossible.

"I'm going to just visit each of you and see how you're doing," Tim said, going to the nearest table first, which happened to be Benny's. "Benny, how are you?"

"Doing well, brother," Benny said as he held up another piece of his dress to the dress form; the bodice was really beginning to take shape. Tim looked at it for a few long moments before speaking.

"Well, it's a good start. My concern is that it's not enough," he said, and Benny nodded.

"The skirt is all the drama. Not doin' much up top so I don't take away from the skirt," he explained, and that seemed to satisfy Tim.

"Carry on, then," he said, turning to Dean's table and staring at the mess of crushed cans across it. "Dare I ask?"

"Well, I…I wish I had something really solid to show you, but this kind of isn't going to come together till it…comes together," Dean explained with a laugh, and Tim frowned.

"That concerns me. Are you good on time?"

"…maybe?"

That made Tim laugh. "Well, work hard. Stay on it, it looks…interesting," he said, moving over to Castiel's table. "Castiel. I can't make sense of any of this. Care to explain?"

Castiel sighed, setting down the piece he was working on. "It's…hard to explain. It's a bit of a haphazard design. The caps are going to be used as detailing."

"But the bottles are see through," Tim said, and Castiel reached over for the stack of labels.

"The inside of the labels are white. I'm going to use them to create a white mini dress to go under the actual dress, but the structure is fairly thick. It will be appropriate. I promise," he said, and Tim nodded.

"Well, you have a lot to do. I'll leave you to it. Make it work," he said, moving on again.

Dean couldn't lend an ear to all the critiques, but he got the basics- Charlie, Kevin, Balthazar, and Meg were all on track for good designs, and Ruby was walking a thin line on her use of the materials. The only ones who really sounded like they were in trouble were Jody and Zachariah- Jody's first attempt had fallen apart and she was starting from scratch. Meanwhile, Tim basically told Zachariah that his garbage bag gown just looked plain messy, and Zachariah responded by angrily throwing the whole thing aside.

Dean barely remembered to stop for lunch, and even then he ate as quickly as possible, shoveling food into his mouth so he could get back to work. The conversation consisted of him and Charlie wondering what was up with Castiel before they were both headed back into the workroom, even though Dean was aching all over from working all day. Normally he worked on cars half the day and did some sewing later- sewing for an entire day straight wasn't something he was really used to.

It was nearly time for dinner breaks when Tim finally brought their models in for a fitting, and the moment Dean saw his come around to his table, he was ecstatic. She was a curvy blonde with long, curly hair and tanned skin, and she had that 'girl next door' look and a gorgeous smile.

"Hi! I'm Jessica," she said. "You must be Dean, right?"

"Right," Dean said, turning to look at the table. "I, uh…don't have much to try on you right now, but hey, lets give it a try."

"I knew what I was getting into when I signed up. Don't worry," Jessica said with a laugh, already starting to strip down. Dean's friends were constantly asking him how he was around half naked girls all the time and didn't hit on them- and he always gave them two reasons. One, half of his clients back home were teenage girls, and that was just not his thing. Or legal.

As for the professional models, this was their job. Just because their job happen to require less clothing and less modesty didn't mean they weren't deserving of the same respect as any other coworker.

He was a ladies' man, but not a creep, thank you very much.

He took the piece he had ready and wrapped it around her top, using one hand to hold it in place and the other to jot notes down. He'd need another row vertically, and unless he wanted Jessica flashing her thong at the judges, he needed a whole lot more rows along the bottom.

God, he was never going to get done.

"Wow, look at that. Emi's gonna have fun," Jessica said, and Dean looked up and over her shoulder at where Castiel was fitting his model, a Japanese girl who had more of a boyish figure than Jessica- but she definitely had that 'model' look, curves or no curves. The mess of plastic had somehow become a mostly done dress, those pieces of plastic bottles shaped into a bodice and skirt. Castiel was measuring up and over one of his model's shoulders, all business as he adjusted the dress on her.

"Yeah, too bad he's kind of an asshole," Dean muttered, and Jessica laughed.

"Making friends already?"

"Could be worse. I could be roomed with Zach over there," Dean pointed out, nodding his head toward where Zachariah was tugging and jerking at the messy garbage bag dress on his model, obviously not concerned with treating her with any amount of care.

"Ew, yeah. Glad I got you," Jessica said. "And I think Gilda is happy with her designer, too."

Dean looked up to where Jessica was looking, and he wasn't surprised to see Charlie flirting shamelessly with her model. Not that he could blame her; Gilda was adorable, tanned skin and long, curly honey brown hair. And she definitely didn't look like she minded the flirting.

"You expecting some flirting too?" he joked, and Jessica rolled her eyes.

"Some of the magic is gone after you've been strapping beer cans on me while I'm in a thong," she said, and Dean laughed, getting her out of the half-done garment.

"You're free. Don't worry, I'll try to make it so it doesn't fall off you halfway down the runway."

"Yeah, you'd better."

Some of the designers were still fitting their models when Tim returned to collect them, but Dean gave Jessica a half hug and was right back to his work. His fingers were aching and his back hurt, but he couldn't slow down, not when the fitting had brought to light just how much work he had to do.

Everyone seemed to be working themselves up into a frenzy as the end of the day drew closer. Dean missed those days at work where the clock hands barely seemed to move at all, because right now, it seemed like every time he looked at the clock another hour had gone by. It wasn't long before the minute hand was creeping up to midnight.

He didn't want to stop working. He felt like he had so much left to do, like he'd never be ready for a runway tomorrow, but midnight was the deadline. Everyone put down their work and headed for the door, one of the PAs showing them the quickest path to walk back to the Saturn apartments.

It went without saying that all of them were dead tired. Nobody even considered staying up to chat or have a drink; Dean barely made it to his room and stripped down to his boxers before he collapsed into bed.

It felt like five minutes later when the alarm went off, and like yesterday, the camera was right there as he and Kevin woke up. They both half slept through showers and getting ready, though Kevin did put a bit more effort into it today, considering it was a runway day. Dean didn't see the need to dress any fancier; after all, it wasn't like he was the model.

Castiel, as usual, was up before them, but he actually looked tired today. He'd made coffee again, and Dean could have kissed him for it, because he wasn't sure he'd even make it to the elevator without coffee. None of them bothered with breakfast today before heading downstairs.

Everyone met in the lobby and headed back to Brighton's, and while there was little conversation on the way there, everyone kicked into high gear once they entered the workroom. Dean immediately set to work getting the bottom of his dress finished, because if he didn't add more cans, Jessica would be giving the judges a very memorable show.

Jo cursed behind him, a playing card fluttering to the ground every few minutes, and Castiel was still adding to the strap on his gown; it was really taking shape, though, and impressively so. Dean didn't take time to look at anyone else's progress, though, because there was just no time; he was driving it down to the wire making sure the dress was a decent length.

It wasn't long before Tim came in with the models, and Jessica was just as cheerful as she'd been yesterday.

"Alright, I think I can handle finishing this. Let's get you through hair and makeup," Dean said, leading her down to the salon room.

He explained as quick as he could to the stylist there what he wanted- a high ponytail, but not too tight. It wasn't exactly a hard style, so he just stayed while they threw it together, taking her straight on to makeup, where he instructed them to do a clean look and a shiny lip gloss.

Confident that they could handle that, he returned to the workroom and finished the bottom edge of the dress, then tweaked the top a bit to try and make sure it would fit her snug. He found himself with a few minutes to spare, and he used it to grab a couple more cans and bend them carefully, zip-tying them together to make a bracelet.

By the time he was done with that, Jessica was back and Tim was giving them the ten-minute warning. It was chaos in the work room, people running back and forth from the sewing room, cursing and hand sewing last details- as it was, Dean was just finishing getting Jessica into the dress and tightening up the top when Tim returned to bring them to the runway.

There was no more he could do; he told Jessica to be careful while she waited and apologized for the aluminum probably being cold on her bare skin, and then PAs were leading the models away as Tim took the designers down to the runway and sat them down in the chairs.

The wait drove him crazy. They sat in those two rows of chairs by the runway, waiting while the lighting and cameras were all moved and adjusted, and all Dean could think about was the possibility of the dress just falling off Jessica as she walked down the runway. He thought he'd tightened it enough, but it would be just his luck to be the one to have his garment fall off and have his model finish her runway walk in just a thong.

It seemed like hours before the judges finally came in and took their seats, followed by Gabriel coming out onto the runway, in a loud shirt as usual. This one was bright purple and some god-awful print that Dean wouldn't touch with a ten foot pole.

"Welcome to the runway, designers!" he announced, and a few of them bothered to return the greeting. Gabriel went right on, stepping aside so the judges could be seen.

"Time to introduce the people who hold your fate in their hands," he said. "First, we have Naomi Prevot, Editor in Chief of Eve Magazine."

"Hello, designers," Naomi said, and Dean practically shivered. That lady gave him the creeps even through the TV, let alone in person.

"Next, we have Fergus Crowley, world renowned designer and CEO of Top Designer Management Agency," Gabriel said, and Crowley smiled that uncomfortable smile he always used.

"I'm expecting big things from all of you," he said, adjusting his suit jacket and sitting back in his seat.

"Of course, there's me. You all know me," Gabriel said, puffing up his chest with the words. "And our guest judge this week is none other than Lenore Benson, actress and eco friendly designer."

"Hi!" Lenore said with a friendly wave, and Dean thought he recognized her- maybe from a TV show? He couldn't remember. And hey, his dress was made of cans. It was practically recycled, she should love it with her eco-stuff.

"And I'm sure you're all dying to know just what you're competing to win this season. And let me tell you, it's the most valuable prize package we've offered since the very first season of this show," Gabriel said, and Dean raised an eyebrow. He'd been so wrapped up in getting here and settling in and just working that he'd almost forgotten the end game here.

"First, you will receive $100,000 to start your own line, plus a year of representation through Top Designer Management Agency," Gabriel said, and Dean let out a low whistle, because that was more money than he ever thought he'd have a chance of having in his bank account. Gabriel grinned and continued. "You will also receive a feature spread in Eve Magazine, and a sewing and design technology suite from Allen Sewing worth $50,000. And this year, we're throwing in one extra perk."

Jesus. As if that wasn't enough.

"This year the winner will also receive a two week trip for two to explore Paris and attend the world famous Paris Fashion Week," Gabriel finished, and Dean could practically feel the excitement among the designers at that one. Hell, Dean had never attended a fashion show outside of the Midwest; he couldn't imagine what they were like in Paris.

"With all that said, let's start the show!" Gabriel said, and he walked up the runway and took the steps down to the judges' seats.

The lights brightened on the runway, the music started (much softer than it sounded on TV), and the first model appeared behind the white screen and struck a pose.

As soon as she came around the corner, Dean knew it was Benny's outfit. She was a distinctive looking girl, pixie cut hair and all sharp angles, and the newspaper dress took advantage of her ridiculously tiny waist. There was a wide, dark newspaper belt around her waist, a strapless bodice, and somehow, Benny had gotten the newspaper skirt to hold an amazing circle-skirt structure. He'd have to ask him later how he did it, because that was impressive.

The next outfit wasn't so impressive. Dean actually winced as Zachariah's model turned the corner; it wasn't worse than the crazy gown he'd started on then threw away, but it wasn't any better, for sure. It looked like a garbage bag- the only signs of actual design were the shoulders, where a little shaping had been done. Bottom three, for sure.

She was followed by Balthazar's model, and really, Dean was kind of sad the guy was told he couldn't win. That man really did some amazing things with a bunch of condoms, flattened circles of condoms making up the bulk of the dress from neck to thigh, and then a fringe of condoms around the bottom. It was a little revolting, and a lot fascinating.

And the look on Naomi's face was the best thing Dean had seen in weeks.

Sarah's dress was a ridiculous mess. It looked like she'd tried to be voluminous and artful with the plastic bags, but it just ended up looking like an explosion of plastic. Jody's was on the opposite extreme- her toilet paper dress had left the workroom looking sleek and structured, but it seemed like every step the model took did more and more damage to the dress. It was sad looking now, and it was probably a miracle it stayed on entirely.

Dean straightened up a little when his turned the corner. Thank god Jessica had a decent sized rack unlike some of the other models, because otherwise it would have surely fallen down by now; as it was, it seemed to have held up really well. She was a natural on the runway, and the aluminum shone under the lights, just hints of color around the edge of each crushed can.

The judges gave nothing away as they watched, but Dean was happy all the same. He let out a sigh of relief as Jessica left the runway. No major disasters on his first runway; he was thankful for that, more than he could say.

Meg's model had to be uncomfortable. He'd heard her talking about how heavy and stifling hot the dress was, but it had good movement, considering how many small parts it was made of. Ruby's dress followed, and at least she'd done something interesting with the trash bags, other than hanging it on the model and calling it a day; she'd crushed up pieces of bags to make a fluffy-like skirt, and used smooth pieces to form a bodice.

Castiel's dress, well…he didn't know if it was luck or genius, but that thing blew everyone else's work out of the water, in Dean's opinion, anyway. The pieces of plastic bottles were shaped into a wide skirt, the ribbed part of the bottles shaped to form a corset-like bodice, and the strap was a mix of plastic and bottle caps; and with the inside-out labels underneath, it was runway appropriate, too. Dean heard Benny tell Castiel it looked amazing, and he had to agree.

Jo's came after, and it seemed she'd pulled it off without any more loss of cards. Using the front and back of the cards in different ways, it actually turned out a cute cocktail dress.

Kevin's dress was similar to Benny's in shape, but while Benny's dress was more of a monotone, Kevin's was an explosion of color. He'd seemed to pick out all of the most colorful ads from the magazine to use, and it was definitely eye catching. Continuing the color motif, Charlie's model was in a short dress made entirely of Skittles wrappers- it was Charlie, definitely. And her model seemed proud to be wearing it, too.

The music cut off and the lights dimmed, and for a few minutes all that was heard was the scratch of the judges' pens on their scorecards. Jo started to say something, but a production assistant hissed the word "Ice!" at her, which they'd learned from their rulebook was code for 'shut up, no talking'.

(And if you heard them say 'hard ice', well, they were really pissed at you.)

They were left to squirm in silence as the judges murmured among themselves, so by the time they were called onto the runway, all of them were on edge.

"Alright, designers. If I call your name, step forward," Gabriel said, glancing down at his card again. "Dean, Sarah, Jody, Castiel, Zachariah, and Charlie."

The six of them stepped forward, and Gabriel grinned. "If I have _not_ called your name…congrats, you're safe. You can go back to your seats," he said, and there was a collective sigh of relief behind Dean as the six of them left the stage to sit back down in the designer seats. Those left on stage waited for their models to be sent out, and Dean gave Jessica a smile.

"Good job," he said to her softly as the other models stepped into place. She returned the smile with a supportive squeeze of his arm.

"Let's start with Charlie," Gabriel said, focusing on the redhead. "I want to applaud you on the use of color. I appreciate a good, vibrant color."

"Yes, the color is wonderful, and good job on the construction," Crowley agreed, and Charlie thanked them, practically glowing at the praise. Naomi narrowed her eyes at the dress.

"Yes, it's a good choice of material, but I feel like it could be less…messy, on the bottom half. It feels like there's a bit of a disconnect between the top and bottom of the garment," she said, and Lenore shook her head.

"I actually like that, the structure turning into a sort of chaotic look. And I have to know, did you eat the candy?" she asked, and Charlie laughed.

"I wasn't the only one. There was a lot of it, my table was popular," she said, and the judges took a few moments to write on their cards before moving on.

"Sarah, tell us what inspired you to use this material," Gabriel said, and Sarah tried to smile, but it definitely came out forced.

"Well, I liked the volume of the material. I thought I could do something a little more dramatic, more avant-garde…"

Crowley snorted. "Darling, I've seen a lot of avant-garde in my career, and none of it looks like a checkout counter exploded."

"It's just unfortunate. She looks as if she got battered by plastic bags in a windstorm," Naomi said, and Dean winced. Ouch.

Lenore smiled gently. "I can see where you were going with it, I think you just got a little lost along the way. I see the concept," she said, and though Sarah looked a little crushed, she thanked her.

"Bit of a hot mess there, Sarah," Gabriel said before flipping to the next card. "Castiel! I'm dying to know what made you go for water bottles."

"The texture was interesting," Castiel said, gesturing to the bodice of the dress, "The flat, smooth portions compared with the ribbing on the middle, plus the caps, it just seemed like it would be fun to deconstruct and see what I could do with the shapes."

"I love this dress," Lenore said. "The strap across the shoulder is so interesting. I could look at this for hours."

Castiel smiled shyly. "Thank you."

"I completely agree," Naomi said. "In any other material or color, the shapes of this might have been over the top. But the clear and white makes it more…ethereal, than overwhelming. Good job."

"I'm not sure how you got it all done in such a short time," Crowley pointed out, and Castiel shrugged.

"Honestly, I'm not sure either," he said, earning a laugh before they moved to the next designer. Dean was counting; two they liked, one they hadn't. And who knew, his might be one of the ones they didn't like. He never could tell, with these judges.

"Zachariah, I am…honestly speechless," Naomi said, her eyes narrowing. "This is a tragedy."

"I'm not sure if you half assed it on purpose just trying to be safe, or if you're actually incompetent," Crowley said, and Zachariah bristled.

"I am not incompetent. I am a designer, a real designer. And perhaps I'm not enough of an alcoholic to make art out of beer cans, but I do not make art with crap," he said, and Dean was about to tell the guy off, but Gabriel beat him to it.

"Maybe you should become an alcoholic. Then you might actually find some inspiration in your work," he said, rolling his eyes. "This is honestly pathetic."

"You can't pick and choose which challenges are worth your time," Naomi said. "You're here to do your absolute best, and this is not your best."

Zachariah looked like he wanted to say something else, but he tightened his fists and clenched his jaw, letting the judges move on. Gabriel focusing in on Dean, and Dean lifted his chin.

"I have to ask, Dean, did you drink the contents before you used those cans?" he asked, and Dean laughed.

"By midnight I wished that I had," he said, and that much was true. By midnight all the designers probably wished they were drunk.

"I appreciate you taking on a material that no one else tried to work with," Lenore said. "This is really interesting."

"Are those zip ties?" Crowley asked, leaning forward to get a better look, and Dean nodded.

"Yeah, it's all cans and zip ties."

"It could be a little longer. It's too short for my taste," Naomi pointed out. "But other than that, you did an excellent job."

"Thank you," Dean said, restraining the excitement that was flooding through him. They liked it- it was his first challenge, his first garment, and they liked it. It was beyond what he'd expected.

Of course, that left poor Jody in the bottom three; all of the judges saw what she's been going for, but a garment that falls apart on the runway wouldn't go over well, no matter how well intentioned.

"Alright. We have some deliberating to do; you can all leave the runway," Gabriel finally said, and all the designers headed backstage to the staging room. Evidently the producers knew it would be a long wait, because lunch was waiting for them there, and all of them were ready to dig in after such a crazy morning.

"This is such a joke," Zachariah complained with a bitter laugh. "I don't work with garbage. There is no part of being a designer that requires debasing yourself to that."

"Dude, did you even watch the show before you signed up?" Dean asked, because really anyone who watched the show knew that there was always at least one challenge using ridiculous materials. Zachariah snorted.

"Of course I did. But we're talking about a convenience store. It's nearly barbaric."

"Come on, it's over now. No point in complaining," Ruby pointed out, twirling her fork around in her salad.

"At least you guys didn't nearly bleed to death making your garments," Kevin said, and Meg rolled her eyes.

"You got a few paper cuts."

"Yeah, and they hurt!"

"I'd rather have paper cuts than be in the bottom three," Jody said with a sigh. "Don't know what I was thinking."

"You did really good," Castiel said to Dean, quiet enough to not interrupt the others. Dean blinked in surprise at the compliment and shrugged.

"Good enough, anyway. You did better."

"Got lucky this time, I think."

"Bullshit."

From there they got on the subject of models, and some people had been luckier than others in the model department- it seemed Dean was one of the lucky ones. Poor Kevin was dealing with a girl who thought she was already supermodel material.

It was two hours before they were called back onto the stage. The safe designers returned to the chairs, and Dean took his place under one of the hot spotlights on the runway, practically shaking with nervous energy even though he knew he was safe. Gabriel studied them for a moment, then smiled.

"We've scored all your creations, designers. One of you will be the winner…and one of you will be out," he said, and then he looked right at Dean.

"Dean…you're in."

Dean sighed with relief. He was safe. Not just safe, but in the top three; not bad for the first challenge.

"And now, for the winner of this challenge," Gabriel said. "The winner is…Castiel!"

Castiel smiled and got a half-hug from his model, along with applause from the other designers (though Dean was sure some of them were just doing so to be polite).

"This means you have immunity for the next challenge and can't be eliminated," Gabriel said, and then he turned to Charlie. "Good job, Charlie. You're in."

Now for the moment of truth; seeing who would go home first, and Dean had a pretty good idea that he knew who it would be.

"Jody…you're in," Gabriel said, and Jody's shoulders sagged with relief. Now there were just two left standing; Sarah and Zachariah.

"Sarah…you had big ideas, but you couldn't follow through, and it turned into a hot mess," Gabriel said, and then he turned his attention to Zachariah. "Zachariah, you really disappointed on this challenge. It's like you didn't even try, buddy."

Zachariah tensed, but Gabriel ignored him and continued on.

"Sarah…you're in. And that means Zachariah, you're out."

"Fine," Zachariah snapped, and everyone was shocked when he just turned and walked out- Dean's eyebrows shot up as the man turned the corner behind the screen. No final goodbyes, no waiting for them to be dismissed, he just…turned around and walked out.

"Well…that was new," Gabriel said with a laugh, unfazed by the abrupt departure. "Designers, the rest of you may leave the runway and return to your apartments. I will see you bright and early."

They once again filed backstage into the staging room, and congratulations were shared all around, though Jody and Sarah were understandably quiet. They all thought they were going to get a break, but no- the production assistants told them to stay put in the staging room and keep quiet, and one at a time they were taken to the confessional room to record interview segments.

It was the most awkward thing Dean had ever done; he had to recall everything about his process, his thoughts, and the challenge, had to answer the questions from the producer in present tense so they could insert the clips later, and he had to do it looking right at the camera. He knew why it had to be that way, but it was still incredibly strange.

By the time all eleven of them finished with confessionals, all of them were completely exhausted. The PAs didn't have to say ice, because they were all too tired to converse anyway.

Needless to say, that evening was the earliest Dean had fallen asleep in a long time, too tired to even stress about tomorrow's challenge.


	3. Sticky Situation

**Author's Note: **Since someone mentioned it, I'll make note of it here: if you would like visuals of the garments in this story, I provide picture links in the end note of each chapter ONLY at Archive of Our Own due to ease of formatting and html use on that site. If you want to have the extra visuals, you might wish to hop over there and have a look; the story name is the same, and my penname there is Mishafied. 3

* * *

The first thing Dean did the next morning was flip off the camera. It didn't do any good, but it made him feel a little better.

He did have to drag himself out of bed eventually, though. He passed by Kevin's bed and yanked the covers down before continuing on to the shower, taking his time in the one place a camera wasn't over his shoulder every second.

Yesterday didn't feel real. It felt like something he'd watched on TV, or a weird dream, not something he'd actually done. He felt like any second he'd be waking up in his apartment back home, getting dressed and going to the garage to work.

He'd been in the top three. On All Star Designer. It was unreal.

He wasn't surprised to see Castiel up and dressed and drinking coffee when he went out to the kitchen. He went straight to the coffee maker and poured himself a cup, nearly running right into the camera when he turned to walk back to the counter.

"Congrats on the win," he said as he sat down on one of the barstools. Castiel blinked and looked at him with surprise, as if he hadn't expected the compliment- and maybe he hadn't. From the haphazard watching Dean had done of the show, the people who won early on tended to become targets, not friends.

"Thank you," Castiel said, a hint of a smile on his face as he sipped at the last of his coffee.

Dean didn't see the point in holding grudges so early on in the competition. He planned on treating everyone decently unless they gave him a reason not to; he wasn't about to be that person who everyone ended up hating because of a bad attitude. Like Zachariah would surely have been, had he stayed.

Dean didn't know why the guy even bothered to audition if he didn't want to use weird shit to make clothes. That was par for the course here.

Kevin finally dragged himself into the front room, and they made their way downstairs to the lobby, where Meg, Ruby, and Sarah were already waiting. Sarah looked vaguely uncomfortable, while Meg and Ruby fell silent the moment the elevator opened, leading to an awkward, suspicious silence.

"Good morning, boys," Meg finally said with a smirk. "Get enough beauty sleep?"

"They're depriving us of sleep to turn us against each other," Kevin muttered, and while he was joking, Dean wouldn't be surprised if he was actually right. Sleep deprivation plus stressful work would add up to a whole lot of drama the longer it went on, and more drama meant higher ratings.

Nobody was as bright and cheery as they had been yesterday during the walk over to Brighton's. Even Jo was more subdued, though still far too happy for early in the morning.

"I have too many paper cuts to count," Kevin moaned, staring at his hands.

"You were the one who picked magazines to use," Jo pointed out with a laugh, and Kevin gave her a weak shove as they filed through the doors into Brighton's. The runway was in a giant exhibition room on the main floor, and they filed inside and sat down in the designer seats- now eleven chairs instead of twelve.

It was mere moments before Gabriel emerged from behind the screen at the start of the runway. He was in his usual flamboyant styling, and smirking, too- Gabriel smirking could never mean anything good, Dean was sure of it.

"Good morning, designers," Gabriel said, his eyes scanning over them with amusement, probably taking a certain glee in how tired they already looked. He received mumbles of greeting in reply, and he laughed.

"Well, aren't you a lively bunch?" he said. "You'll have to wake up quick. Tim is waiting upstairs with the materials for your next challenge. For some of you, it will be a walk down memory lane…good or bad, that I don't know."

That didn't bode well. The tension in the room was already ratcheting up now, exhaustion being replaced with nervousness as Gabriel gave them a wave.

"Bye bye now. I'll see you on the runway," he said, turning to leave with far too much skip in his step. As soon as he was gone the designers stood up, Dean trying to ignore the pit of dread in his stomach as the designers tried to guess what they would find in the workroom.

"Watch, we'll be making cocktail dresses out of lumber or something," Jody said, and really, Dean wouldn't have been surprised in the least.

What greeted them in the workroom, though, made him burst out laughing- piles and piles of brightly colored duct tape. Tim stood in the middle of the stacks of tape, every color of the rainbow from the classic grey to neon green. More than a few of the designers looked horrified; Dean, though, was actually kind of excited about making something out of duct tape.

"Good morning, designers," Tim said, and at least he didn't seem to take pleasure in the fact that they looked dead tired. "As you can see, for this next challenge you will be working with duct tape to create your runway look. But this runway look has one little twist."

Someone groaned behind Dean, and he felt that dread return- they would be making something ridiculous, he was sure of it. Like clown costumes. Or baby clothes.

"You're creating a look for a high school prom," Tim continued, and Dean sighed with relief. Prom he could do. He'd been making prom dresses for years- as long as he didn't screw up royally with the duct tape, he'd be okay.

Castiel, though, actually looked nervous now. Castiel, who hadn't batted an eyelash when they were faced with a convenience store, who hadn't been fazed with using a pile of plastic to make a dress- he looked terrified of some tape and a prom dress.

Dean didn't get a chance to ask him about it. Tim was already moving on, filling them in on the challenge. "You will have two days for this challenge, and you will have access to all the tape you see here, so no budget for this. Notions, if needed, are at the back of the workroom. Are you ready to get started?"

Dean was already studying the piles of tape, pinpointing colors that would be bright and youthful, so by the time Tim said they could start, he was ready. He immediately picked up a few rolls of white, some bright purple, and a vivid turquoise blue. He didn't know exactly what he was going to do yet, but starting with a solid palette was half the battle.

Castiel already seemed unsure. He'd picked out a nice blue, but he was hesitating now, studying the other colors like he was trying to memorize them. Charlie was already heading back to her table, her arms full of classic grey duct tape, and Dean gave her a curious look.

"Come on, someone's gotta keep it classic," she said with a smile, and Dean rolled his eyes and dropped his tape on his own table, then pulled his sketchpad over to start working on silhouettes. He knew that the classic prom dress would get a lot of use in here- tight on the top, huge Disney-style princess skirt, and he wanted to avoid that, even if it would be the safe route to take.

Castiel finally brought his tape back to his workstation, the blue now joined by a pretty, rich brown. Not Dean's cup of tea, but he had the feeling Castiel could make it work. Castiel didn't seem so sure, though; he paused and stared at the tape, still with that vague look of panic on his face.

"Cas, you okay?" Dean asked, and Castiel took a deep breath, letting it out slowly.

"I've never been to prom."

"But you saw pictures from it, right? My school plastered them all over the hallways and the school paper," Dean pointed out, and Castiel's frown deepened.

"I was home schooled."

Oh. _Oh_. Well, now his panic seemed to make a whole lot more sense. If you went by modern TV, all proms were filled with miniskirts and massive amounts of cleavage; but in a normal prom, those things would get you kicked out for dress code violations. He wasn't surprised Castiel was dubious.

"I can have a look at your sketches and give you a hand. I know prom dresses way too well," he offered, surprising Castiel for the second time that morning.

"…Really?"

"Yeah, really. I don't mind," Dean said with a shrug.

"Isn't that adorable," Charlie said, her chin propped on her hands as she watched the exchange, and Dean grabbed one of her rolls of duct tape and tossed it at her face. She laughed as she swatted away the flying tape, going back to her own sketch.

"So who was the prom queen in here?" Jo asked, and Meg laughed, sitting cross-legged on her table and carefully folding bright red duct tape in half.

"Forget that, I was the one who spiked the punch," she said, leading to an argument about whether she was bluffing or not, because that was seriously a high school movie cliché. Though just from two days of knowing Meg, Dean wouldn't doubt it; something about her gave him the creeps.

Dean focused on his dress form, where he was carefully wrapping purple duct tape over muslin in close layers, trying to shape it to the bust line without distorting the tape too much. It was easier said than done, and it took a while to be able to manipulate the tape without ending up with a tangled, sticky mess on his hands with every other piece.

He stopped briefly when Castiel held out his sketchpad, and Dean skimmed over the elegant lines and nodded. "Looks like prom to me," he said, returning the sketchpad with a smile. Castiel managed a smile, bumping into the table when he turned to go back to his own table.

They settled in to work, the room quiet apart from bursts of conversation here and there, or people curious about other designer's color choices.

By the time Charlie bumped her hip against him and demanded company for lunch, Dean couldn't believe how much time had already gone by- it was lunchtime, and he wasn't even finished with the bodice yet. Of course, looking around the room he felt a little better about his progress; Charlie's station was a mess of grey duct tape, some formed into looped chains, and Castiel's station was covered in the same twisted scraps as Dean's; the only work Castiel had to show so far was a stack of long strips of blue duct tape, carefully folded lengthwise.

He wasn't even going to look too long at the mess on Sarah's station. He might damage his vision just by staring too long at the blinding mix of purple, pink, and orange tape she was working with.

"Come on, I'm hungry and no one else is in the break room," Charlie said, and then she looked up at Castiel and Benny. "You guys too. I don't trust Dean alone with me. He's definitely shady," she added, getting a laugh from Benny and a confused look from Castiel.

"Alright, I get your point, little lady. I'm coming," Benny said with his usual drawl as he cut off the piece of tape he was working with and then stood up and stretched. Castiel just looked down at his work again.

"I'm not really at a good stopping point. You guys go ahead," he said, and Dean thought about pointing out that there really wouldn't be any good stopping points in this project, but he just let it go. If Castiel didn't want to come, he wouldn't push it.

There were sandwiches and salads waiting for them in the break room, same as yesterday, but at least there were different options available. The three of them gathered their food and sat down on the long couches, though Dean would hardly qualify this to be a couch, because couches were supposed to be comfortable. These couches were those ultra-modern monstrosities that were all sharp angles and cushions so hard it was like sitting on a slab of cement.

"His little crush on you is so fucking cute," Charlie pointed out, the cameraman hovering on the other side of the coffee table, camera pointed right at them as they ate. Their lunch 'break' wasn't really a break, after all- a break from work, but not from being on camera.

"His crush? Castiel?" Dean said in disbelief around a bite of turkey sandwich, which yeah, his mom was going to smack him if any of this lunch footage aired, with his habit of talking with his mouth full.

Charlie nodded. "He has such a crush on you and it's so adorable. I mean, it's obvious."

"It's not obvious because he doesn't. You're already getting weird from cabin fever," Dean said, looking past her to Benny. "Benny will back me up on this."

Benny chuckled. "I am not gettin' involved in this, brother. You're on your own."

"Traitor," Dean muttered, slouching in his seat. "Least I'm not already hitting on my model," he said, and Charlie did a great job of looking mock-offended at that.

"Can you really blame me? Did you see her? I got the hottest model in the bunch," she said, and Dean rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, sure, Charlie. Excuses, excuses."

The teasing turned into a miniature food fight that consisted of Charlie lobbing a tomato at his head, which got a slice of lettuce tossed in return before Benny warned them that this couch probably cost more than any of them made in a year and he wouldn't be involved in damaging it with stains. And now that Dean thought about it, this modern shit probably did sell in at least the five digits, and unless he won the competition, having that much in his bank account was a pipe dream.

Not that he'd seriously considered that he might win. He was pretty certain he wouldn't, not with half the people here coming from design schools and dropping employer names like McQueen and Ford. Dean had never even been to a real fashion show beyond the knock off versions that they did in the middle of malls in Kansas that went mostly ignored.

Luckily, Charlie and Benny were pleasant lunch company, not interested in talking about the competition on their break (except for a mutual agreement that what was going on at Sarah's station was a travesty to all but the blind). By the time they headed back into the workroom a little of the stress had lifted from his shoulders, and he actually felt clear-headed and ready to tackle this bodice and get it finished.

Looking back at his sketch, he was confident that if he could get the bodice and waistband detail done by the end of today, he could get the skirt done tomorrow. Probably. He wasn't doing a full gown like the others; his skirt would hit just below the knee and ruffle out a little at the bottom, but while he was confident the skirt itself wouldn't be too bad, he didn't even know where to start making a ruffle out of duct tape.

He would deal with that when the time came. Right now he had a goal and needed to stick to it.

When Castiel finally did take his lunch break it was when no one else was in the break room, and he was barely gone for ten minutes before he appeared back at his workstation, settling into his work as if he'd never left at all. Dean had the feeling that if the PAs weren't watching like a hawk to make sure they all ate something, Castiel would skip meals altogether. He seemed the type. Meanwhile, if Dean had to go without a meal, you could bet he would be whining and complaining within a couple hours.

He blamed his mom and her almost militant attitude toward family meal time. She couldn't get their dad to follow the routine, but she made damn sure Dean and Sam did. He couldn't complain; her cooking wasn't exactly a punishment.

And now he missed her cooking, just thinking about it. Catered sandwiches just didn't cut it, and the idea that he would be eating them for weeks made him shudder.

The door to the room swung open and they all looked up, because not many people came through that door to the rest of the building during the workday; and sure enough, it was Tim.

"Hello, designers," he said, clapping his hands together and looking around the room. "I'm just here to check up with each of you. Go on about your business," he added, heading over to Benny's table first. Benny showed him the progress he'd made with some sleek, shiny black tape, nothing too solid yet, and then showed him the sketch. Tim stared at the sketch for a few moments, and then picked up a roll of the tape.

"I'm a little concerned. Between the silhouette and the patent leather look of this tape, this runs the risk of looking a little…slutty," he pointed out, and Benny shook his head.

"I'm gonna do some detailing in white. Won't be a flat out hooker dress," he insisted, and Tim set the tape down.

"If you're confident, then go for it. Just avoid using any boots from the accessory wall. And I might suggest you add a little length, considering the age group," he said, turning toward Dean's table. Dean was ready for him, and quite frankly eager to have an outside opinion from someone who knew what the hell they were doing.

"How are you, Dean?" Tim asked, and Dean took a deep breath.

"Pretty damn good, considering."

"Good. Well, show me what you've got here."

"The bodice is purple down to here, and the waistband is going to be white," Dean explained, holding a scrap of the purple next to the white for a visual aid. "Then the skirt is going to be this blue color, and flare here, just below the knee," he continued, tapping the sketch he'd made earlier.

"Well, you've picked a wonderful palette. And a good shape, though you should think about adding another inch or so to that neckline," Tim said, and Dean stood back, looking carefully at the bodice.

"Yeah, you're probably right. It looks a little low," he said, though he would definitely wait until after the model fitting before he adjusted the neckline.

"My only concern is that the design might be a little…simple. It's missing that extra 'oomph'."

"Well, I didn't want to go over the top with it."

"You don't want to be too safe, either," Tim said, and Dean sighed, staring down at his sketch. He was already going to be pressed for time- what could he possibly add?

"Thanks, Tim."

"Carry on. I know you'll make it work. Hopefully without running the garment over with a vehicle," Tim said with a smile, patting Dean on the shoulder before moving on to Castiel. Benny raised an eyebrow at Dean, his hands paused in their work.

"You run your clothes over with a car?"

Dean groaned. "It's not that weird, come on. I use it to distress leather. It's great at breaking it in."

"…You know there are tools for that, right?"

"My car does it better," Dean muttered defensively, and Benny laughed and went back to his garment, leaving Dean to stare down at his sketch. Tim was right; if he didn't add something, his design ran a serious risk of being too plain considering the competition in the room. Hell, Charlie was only using one color, and her garment still had the draw of the odd construction- a skirt made of looped chains of grey duct tape. It was actually rather clever.

He couldn't waste time deciding now, though. He resolved to sleep on it, going back to his work on the bodice, and not-so-accidentally eavesdropping on the other designers' feedback from Tim.

From the last bit of Castiel's critique that Dean caught, he was in much the same position as yesterday- Tim liked the sketch well enough, but he was concerned that Castiel didn't have enough time to bring it to life. Castiel was quiet, but appeared to be actually thinking it over this time; this whole challenge seemed to leave him unsteady, not nearly as confident as he had been for the last challenge.

At least he had immunity. He could send a half naked model down the runway and still not have to worry.

"Charlie, there is a distinct lack of color on this table," Tim said as he approached Charlie's station, and she grinned at him.

"I know! I mean, come on, Tim. When you see a duct tape wallet, it's classic duct tape. Nobody makes a dress out of classic duct tape. Someone's gotta stick up for it," she insisted, and Tim laughed, looking at her sketch.

"You know, normally I would scold you endlessly for the lack of variety, but it's obvious you feel strongly about this."

"It's duct tape. Of course I do. Everyone should. This stuff is amazeballs."

Tim frowned at her. "Amazeballs?"

"Yeah, get with the times, Tim. Amazeballs," Charlie said, and Tim laughed again and shook his head.

"I'll let you get to it. You keep that attitude!" he said, stepping back to the next table.

Dean caught bits and pieces of the critiques from there. Evidently Meg was in the same situation as Castiel- a big concept, and not a lot of time to execute it. Jo was told to make sure she avoided ending up with a 'bridesmaid' look instead of a prom look, Kevin was warned that his colors could leave the dress looking like a cheap Halloween witch costume if he wasn't careful, and Ruby…well, Tim didn't seem certain at all about Ruby's work so far, but obviously there was something in the sketch that Dean couldn't see in her work so far, because Tim told her to carry on with it.

Dean wasn't surprised when Tim told Balthazar that he needed to rethink his concept and edit so it wouldn't end up looking gimmicky or tasteless, and he also wasn't surprised when Balthazar responded by basically proclaiming that he would be fine with what he had and Tim was just being overly paranoid. Equally unsurprising was his advice to Jody to 'bump it up to the next level', because otherwise her design would fall flat compared to some of the others.

Everyone seemed to be listening when Tim got to Sarah's station. For a few long, awkward moments he simply stood and stared, chin propped on his fingers as he thought, and Sarah waited expectantly.

"You're making me nervous," she finally said with a laugh, and Tim hesitated one more moment before speaking.

"I'm going to be blunt with you…it looks like Rainbow Brite became ill and threw up on your station," he said, and there was more than one snort in the room as people tried not to burst out laughing- Dean included. Sarah looked devastated, though; he would have had a whole lot easier of a time feeling sorry for her if the color choice weren't so utterly repugnant.

"Bold colors are in. It's a big thing with kids right now," she insisted, and Tim nodded along.

"Bold colors are one thing. These colors, though…they're reminiscent of a bad acid trip."

"And just how do you know what a bad acid trip is like?" Ruby asked, and Tim laughed.

"Oh, no. You're not making this about me," he said, turning back to Sarah. "I would seriously stand back and work on editing this look if I were you. You've got all day tomorrow, but you still need to consider the time factor here."

Sarah nodded, shoulders slumping as she looked at the partial dress on the form. "I will, Tim."

"Good. I know you can do it. Make it work," Tim said before turning to face the rest of the room. "Well, in general I'm excited about what's going on in here. I think this will be a fabulous runway show. Everyone keep at it, and keep your eye on the time. Just because it's a two day challenge doesn't mean you can slack."

"Don't think anyone is planning on slacking," Kevin pointed out, a strip of duct tape stuck to his arm as he maneuvered another into place.

"Your models will be in for a fitting before lunch tomorrow. I will see you the morning of the runway," Tim said, and goodbyes were sent his way as he left the room, having pushed the tension up a few notches during the course of his visit. It always ended up that way; people who thought they were on a good track had their hopes dashed, others were completely lost once Tim left. Dean counted himself lucky that his basic design wasn't declared a total fuck up. Poor Sarah was still staring at her work, and it remained to be seen if she would continue and try to refine the concept she had, or scrap it and start all over.

They'd been working for a while longer when Meg sauntered by Dean's station and promptly sat on Castiel's table, luckily on one of the few spots not covered by his work in progress. She crossed her legs and picked up one of the pieces he'd already folded, and Dean felt a rush of anger for Castiel, because he'd be pissed if anyone just grabbed his work without asking. Castiel took it in stride, though, looking up from his dress form and raising an eyebrow at her.

"You and I both have some crazy work to do, Clarence," she said, eyeing him more like he was a chunk of meat than a human being. Of course, it went right over Castiel's head.

"My name isn't Clarence."

"I know."

Castiel still looked incredibly confused, but he turned back to his work- but only for a few moments before he was giving her another look. "Is there…something you wanted? I'm a bit busy," he said, which was more diplomatic than Dean would have been if she'd planted her ass on his table.

"I was just resting my hands for a minute. Wanted to see what the starting horse out of the gate was up to," she said with an innocent shrug, and Dean had had enough. He set down his tape and stood up, brushing slivers of tape from his jeans.

"Hey, Cas, it's time for dinner and I'm starving. You said you'd hang with me," he said, a bold-faced lie, but luckily there was only a flicker of confusion on Castiel's face before he realized what Dean was getting at.

"Oh. Yes, I did, didn't I?" he said, and it was the fastest Dean had ever seen the guy pull away from his work. Dean led the way to the break room, Castiel right on his heels, and as soon as the door closed behind them Castiel let out a relieved sigh.

"Thank you, Dean. I was beginning to wonder if I would be left alone to work," he said, and Dean gave him a smile, picking up a bottled water and tossing it his way. Castiel fumbled but managed to catch it.

"No problem. You'd better cover for me if she goes creepy on my ass, though," he said, picking out a different kind of sandwich than the one he'd had for lunch. "So, what was it like?"

"What was what like?"

"Being homeschooled," Dean said, dropping down on the couch and wincing when it didn't give an inch on impact. Castiel picked out a sandwich, and then made his way to the couch, sitting down on the edge of it, back nearly ramrod straight.

"It was…uneventful," he said with a shrug, and Dean laughed.

"Uneventful? That's it?"

"I don't know how else I would describe it. The tutor came in early, we studied, ate lunch, then studied more. It wasn't anything exciting."

"We? So you've got siblings?" Dean asked. Jesus, this was like pulling teeth, trying to get Castiel to talk about himself.

"Three siblings," Castiel replied, the words almost so soft that Dean didn't hear them. There was an almost pained look on Castiel's face, a sadness that caught Dean off guard- but he didn't get a chance to ask any more, because Ruby and Balthazar came into the break room, complaining about sticky residue from the tape as they gathered their meals.

The moment was over. Like a switch had been flipped, Castiel nearly inhaled the sandwich in what had to be record time, and by the time Ruby and Balthazar were sitting down, he was standing up and excusing himself back to the workroom, nearly having to push the cameraman aside to get through. Obviously the cameraman had wanted him to stay and keep the heart-to-heart going with Dean.

Dean wanted that too, but at the same time, he remembered that look- and he wondered if he would be an asshole if he asked any more when it upset Castiel that much and might end up aired on national TV. It didn't seem fair.

"What's his problem?" Balthazar asked, watching the door fall shut behind Castiel. Dean shrugged.

"Just stressed. We all are," he said, and that much was definitely the truth.

"Well, I inspired a new rule in the contract. Future participants will not be permitted to use sex aids or sex toys in their projects," Balthazar said with a smirk, and Dean smiled too, imagining the panic that went on with the producers over that whole fiasco.

"Too bad. I was hoping to make a dress out of dildos next," Ruby said, staring at her sandwich as if it had personally offended her. "Speaking of dildos, who do I have to blow to get some French fries around here?"

The cameraman choked on air so bad that he nearly dropped the camera.

* * *

By the end of the day, Dean had finished up on the bodice, and was ready to work on the skirt the moment they came in the next morning. They were allowed to sleep in an extra two hours more than usual, but the opinion on that was split between the people who thought the extra sleep was invaluable, and the people who thought the extra sleep was a waste of time when they could have been working on their garments.

Sarah had evidently decided to go balls-out with her original idea on the prom dress. Dean wasn't sure if he admired her guts or if he thought she was an idiot; after all, there were times that the judges disagreed with Tim, but that wasn't something he would bank on. Especially not when the outfit in question was that…vivid. That was about the only semi-nice word he could think of to describe it.

Dean still couldn't tell what Ruby was going for. There were patches of blue on black, white spots…it seemed random, but she was working like she had a plan for everything. She probably did. The people who were genuinely a little lost- which on this challenge seemed to be Sarah, Jody, and to an extent, Benny- stood out in the workroom. They were constantly back and forth, looking at their garment from across the room, from the approximate distance the judges would be seeing it, tugging at the tape, staring at it some more…Dean had the feeling he would experience that more than once in the coming challenges, so he wasn't about to make fun.

"Tim jinxed me. It still looks like a hooker dress," Benny complained, holding a roll of white tape as he studied the half finished dress on his dress form. Dean looked at it too, hesitated, and then decided he wouldn't be doing the guy any favors by sugar coating it.

"Yeah, it…kinda does. I'd throw some more white on there. Or another color. And definitely avoid the boots."

"Or I could embrace it and say she's attending prom ironically to poke fun at the school whores," Benny said with a shrug, and Dean laughed.

"Or that. You wouldn't get sent home for being boring, that's for sure."

They didn't get much time to work before the door opened and their models began to file in. Most of them were excited when they saw the unfinished garments, and Jessica was no exception; she clapped her hands together with her usual bright smile when she saw the bodice.

"This is actually a whole lot better than what I wore to prom," she said as she stripped off her shirt, leaving her bra on as Dean carefully removed the bodice from the dress form.

"Really?"

"Yeah. I went full on frilly princess with it. I had a horrible fashion sense," she explained, holding her arms up and letting Dean carefully wrap the stiff garment around her. "There was pink, and sequins. And tulle."

Dean winced. "You sound like half my clients back home."

"Really? You don't look the type to be making prom dresses for a living," she said, and Dean chuckled, stepping back to study the neckline.

"Not really for a living. More of a side job," he said, remembering Tim's advice to raise the neckline an inch or two. He'd agreed at the time, but now that he was looking at it, he thought it fell perfect on Jessica. He really didn't want to change it when he'd worked so hard on it already.

Oh well; he'd take the hit for it if he had to. The judges could deal.

"What did you do for a living, then?" she asked, unperturbed by a guy staring at her tits for a full minute. Then again, he had a good excuse.

…not that she didn't have nice tits to look at. She totally did.

"I'm a mechanic," he said, and she burst out laughing.

"A mechanic who's secretly a fashionista? Sounds like the beginning to a really cheesy gay porn," she pointed out, and Dean rolled his eyes.

"I have higher standards than our clientele at the shop, thanks. They tend to run a bit…bigoted. Small town," he pointed out, and she pouted.

"Ruining all my hopes and dreams, Dean," she complained as he made one final note and then helped her out of the bodice. "What kind of skirt will it have?" she asked after a moment, leaning over to look at his sketchbook.

"Pencil skirt with a flare at the bottom," Dean said, which wasn't entirely accurate, but close enough. He sighed and looked down at the sketch. "Still have to think of something to add. You know, a hook for it. Tim said it's too simple. But more ruffles would make be too much, and cutouts are too sexy for prom. Especially since I'm already putting your rack on display."

"Draw on it?" Jessica suggested with a laugh, and then the PA was calling out to them, telling the models it was time to go. Dean rolled his eyes at her and gave her a half hug before sending her on her way, and he turned back to his sketch, mulling the idea over.

Draw on it. Well, he couldn't really draw on it, but…

He pulled the white duct tape over, and then with a pencil he lightly drew a curvy line design on the tape. He reached for his scissors and carefully cut the design out, then applied it at the top front of the skirt, right where the blue started.

"My model's a genius," he said with a smile, finally confident that he knew how he was finishing his dress.

"Still not as hot as my model," Charlie said behind him, and he snorted and shook his head, getting back to work.

It was even quieter than yesterday had been. No one paused in their work to chat at other stations, there were no tape rolls flying across the room or rolling across the floor; everyone was focused on their work and mostly silent, aside from the occasional curse from someone fighting a stubborn piece of tape. Dean felt like he'd gotten pretty much nowhere on his progress by the time lunch rolled around, but Charlie literally grabbed his arm and dragged him away from his station, and called out to Castiel that she'd do the same to him if he didn't get his ass to the break room. Jo, Kevin, and Benny joined them soon after, all of them looking like battered war vets as they collapsed in the break room to eat.

"I never want to see a roll of duct tape ever again in my life," Jo moaned, dropping her head back against the couch, and Kevin snorted.

"Now you know how I feel about magazines."

"Wonder if Balthazar feels the same about condoms now," Charlie said, and all of them winced a little at that thought.

Castiel was once again quiet throughout the conversation, but at least he ate slower this time and seemed like he was paying attention to the conversation.

They only had a few hours left to work, and part of that he spent overlaying the white design he'd created down the front of the skirt. Tomorrow they would have little time to finish up, between taking their models to hair and makeup, and the last thing Dean wanted was to have a pile of work waiting to try and get done at the last second (although he knew that was pretty much the norm for this competition, from the episodes he'd seen).

But he could only work so fast, especially when it came to shaping the ruffles at the bottom of the skirt, because while you could simply run fabric through a sewing machine in a certain way to get a ruffle, that definitely didn't work with tape. He had to shape every curve and reinforce the shape in each strand of tape, and when he heard someone say it was eleven and time to go, he was only halfway done. It felt like someone had taken a shovel to his stomach and just started digging; there was no way he was going to finish. No way.

He wasn't the only one, though. Charlie seemed to only have half of her chain skirt attached, and Castiel was still arranging strips of duct tape and matching colors up in the bodice. That was without even looking at the other side of the room to see who was struggling there.

But until tomorrow morning, he couldn't do anything more. And after a full day of working, his back was aching and his fingers sore as he collapsed into his bed in the apartment, asleep nearly before his head even hit the pillow.

* * *

Everyone was working within seconds of getting into the workroom the next morning.

Dean's pulse was racing like he'd had five cups of coffee as he tried desperately to finish the bottom of his dress- and then Kevin was there, picking up a roll of tape and asking Dean how he was doing it. Dean could have kissed the kid; he showed Kevin how he was curving and reinforcing the tape, and Kevin set to work on the other side of the dress.

"I really can't thank you enough for this, Kevin," Dean said, though the words came out muffled around the piece of tape he was holding between his teeth. Kevin shot him an amused smile.

"No big. I can't do anything else till Elizabeth gets here anyway," he said, quickly becoming used to the movements. In minutes, he was working just as quickly as Dean; Kevin was an incredibly fast learner, that was for sure.

And Dean could have sworn he saw Castiel actually smiling at the two of them when he saw that Kevin had come over to help him.

When the models came in the door, Dean was actually in pretty decent shape, thanks to Kevin. He only had a few inches of ruffle to finish, so it wasn't awful to step away to get all the model stuff taken care of.

"Oh my god, you really did draw on it," Jessica said with a laugh, and Dean frowned at her.

"I did not draw on it. I appliquéd. With duct tape."

"Uh huh."

"Careful, or I'll ask them to dye your hair purple to match."

Jessica smacked him, and he chuckled and straightened up, wincing at the pain in his back from bending over to work on the dress without pause. He led Jessica up to the hair salon, where the stylists were already working on two of the other models.

"Go with a classy updo. Lots of curls," he said, hoping that his lack of hair and makeup knowledge wouldn't come back to bite him on one of these challenges. The stylist nodded and gave him a thumbs up, though, so he assumed they were good to go and headed back down to the workroom.

Jessica was in the salon for 45 minutes before she returned, her hair swept up into a beautiful updo style, and Dean checked the clock one more time before he took her up to the makeup room. It was going to be close; he just needed twenty more minutes to finish up with the dress. He could do this.

He instructed the makeup guy to give her some color to match the dress for her eyeshadow, a nude lip, and all the other normal shit like mascara and eyeliner (that got a smirk from the guy, and Dean wasn't sure if it was because mascara and eyeliner were considered normal shit or not). Ruby gave him a dirty look, like he should know all the crap color names- which, come on, that eyeshadow is fucking purple, not 'England's Majesty' or what the fuck ever- before he left Jessica to finish her makeup and went back down to finish his dress.

He was just trimming the last piece of tape when Tim came through the door and announced that they had ten minutes before they were leaving for the runway. About that same time Jessica returned from makeup, and Dean ordered her to strip as he removed the dress from the dress form (and under any other circumstances he probably would have gotten slapped for ordering a girl to strip down to her thong, but hey; perks of being a designer).

"It's so pretty. I should've hired you to make my prom dress," she said as Dean had her step into the dress and pulled it up her body. She had decent hips for a model, so it took a few tugs to get the bodice over her hips, but soon she was into the dress. Dean checked the clock; five minutes to adjust the dress so it wouldn't fall off her chest on the runway. He was going to die of a heart attack before this competition ended.

But as he worked on the back of the dress tightening things up, he couldn't help but laugh when he looked over Jessica's shoulder at Castiel, who was also getting his model into her dress.

"Cas, did you _seriously_ put a twine corset into the back of a dress made out of duct tape?" he asked, and Castiel blinked and looked at the back of the dress, as if Dean were asking the stupidest question in the world.

"Of course I did. It elevates the look," he said, and Dean laughed again, because that was kind of adorable and ridiculous. He'd wondered why Castiel had grabbed a handful of the twine holding the bundles of duct tape together.

"Alright, designers, time is up! I need all designers and models in the hallway with me, right now," Tim called from the doorway, and Dean tugged at the top of the dress, making sure that his alterations would hold firm before he let out a breath of relief.

"Okay, Jess. No sitting down, no eating, fuck, no _breathing_," he said with a nervous chuckle, and she grinned at him as they walked toward the hallway.

"Don't worry. I've got this," she said. "If I can wear a dress made of aluminum cans, I think I can handle some tape."

Dean was never more thankful for getting an amazing model than he was right now, especially with Kevin's model towering over him and whining about how gross the tape feels, and how he should have lined it with cloth for her. Kevin was ignoring all the whining, though Dean could see the exasperation in his expression.

Luckily for Kevin, the models were taken in one direction and the models in another. Dean and the rest of the designers were led to the runway, where they were once again left to sit in the designers' seats and wait as cameras and lights were moved around. Eventually Crowley and Naomi showed up with their guest judge, who was-

Shit. No fucking way was he seeing this right.

That was not fucking Paris Hilton, walking arm in arm with Crowley.

"Is that who I think it is?" Kevin asked him with a somewhat horrified look, and Dean just nodded dumbly. Paris fucking Hilton. Didn't she get out of fashion and go full time DJ? The show was probably paying her a boatload for this cameo.

At least she didn't have one of her little rats disguised as dogs with her.

After what felt like hours, Gabriel finally emerged from behind the screen with his usual flourish, practically skipping out onto the runway.

"Hello, designers! I trust you didn't get yourself into any sticky situations the past two days?" he said, and there was a collective groan at the bad joke. He rolled his eyes.

"No pleasing you people. Oh well. Time for the runway!" he said, not missing a beat despite their hatred of his joke. "Your judges this week are Naomi Prevot, Editor in Chief of Eve Magazine; Fergus Crowley, world renowned designer and CEO of Top Designer Management Agency; and last but not least, actress and fashionista, Miss Paris Hilton!"

"Hi designers," Paris said with a wave and that plastic looking smile of hers. She certainly didn't get as exuberant a welcome as Lenore had last week.

"This week, we asked you to create a look appropriate for prom…using only duct tape," Gabriel recapped, a mischevious look on his face. "Castiel, since you won last week, you are safe from the chopping block this week. One designer will win this challenge and gain immunity for next week; and one designer will be out of the competition for good. That said, let's start this show!"

Gabriel hopped off the runway and over to the judges, giving Paris a set of those fancy double air kisses before dropping into his own chair.

The lights dimmed, the music came on, and the first model posed behind the screen.

The very first dress out was Dean's. Jessica was fantastic on the runway, just like she'd been last week, and the dress fit her like a glove; the only thing that Dean knew would probably count against him was the lack of coverage up top. Personally, he thought the dress looked good enough to make up for any dress code slip-ups; it wasn't like she was exposed or anything.

The next dress was Kevin's. He'd managed to avoid the purple and black dress looking too 'Halloween' with a series of small fringes along the bottom of the dress, plus neatly cut black duct tape detailing arching up from the straps of the dress. He gave Kevin a clap on the shoulder and a quiet 'good job', and Kevin pretty much beamed at the compliment.

The next was Meg's, and this was the moment that Dean decided she had to be a demon, or something else supernatural, because no one else could have gotten that amount of work done in such a short time. Her red gown was woven and all the way to the floor with black detailing at the top and bottom edges, and her model's amazing afro only accentuated the shape of the dress by mirroring it dramatically.

Jody's came after, and Dean felt a bit sorry for her- because she'd struggled with this challenge, and anyone whose garment walked right after Meg's would end up looking pretty bad in comparison. It didn't help that right after Jody's pink and black crosshatched dress came Ruby's, which at the last second had developed into a definite look; the blue patches on a black background with seemingly random white dots had become a dress that looked like overlaid butterfly wings. He had to admit, it was unique, and it looked damn good. It seemed the women were going to own this week.

Balthazar's came after, and Dean had to hold back his laughter; Balthazar had used the novelty duct tape that was red with black lettering on it, spelling out the word DANGER in bold capitals at seemingly random spots on the short dress. He had a good silhouette, though- if you upped it by two sizes.

Castiel's model turned the corner next, and for a guy who knew next to nothing about prom, he'd done a damn good job of pulling together a classic prom look. It was a long strapless gown, blue with brown detailing along the top and a brown belt, angles strips of blue tape overlapping all the way to the floor. It may have been a little safe, but it would definitely keep him safe from the bottom this week, with all the people who tried to take 'risks'. Like the next dress, which was Sarah's- a color-blocked monstrosity of color in bright purple, pink, and orange. As if the colors weren't enough, there were rows of ruffles along the bottom of the short skirt, and a huge pink bow on the back. He had the feeling she was going for Harajuku style and missed by about 2000 miles.

Charlie's model was next, and really, she should have gotten massive amounts of points for sheer effort; it may not have been colorful, but anyone could see the work that went into the dress. Dean had seen it firsthand, watching her attach chain after chain of grey duct tape loops to the smooth bodice. Benny's dress looked simply by comparison, a sheath dress in shiny black; and it looked like he'd replaced the white detailing with silver. Must have had last minute reservations about the contrast or something.

The last model to walk was Jo's. Dean actually liked her dress a lot; it had a layered white skirt, but the bodice was detailed with brightly colored flowers. It was the proper way to use crazy colors in a look without going overboard, that was for sure.

Once Jo's model had left the runway, the music faded off and the judges wrote furiously on their notecards and murmured amongst themselves. Finally, Gabriel had all the designers line up on the runway. The moment of truth; no matter how he felt like he did, Dean knew he would always stand up here expecting to hear his name called for the bottom three.

"If I call your name, please step forward," Gabriel said, pausing dramatically before he began reading off the names, a pause between each one. "Ruby, Benny, Meg, Dean, Balthazar, and Sarah."

Dean stepped forward when his name was called, holding his breath, and Gabriel smiled.

"If I have _not_ called your name…congratulations. You're safe and may return to your seats," he said, and Dean looked around at who remained on stage. He thought he might be in the top three, but then again, Paris Hilton was a judge. He couldn't be sure of anything.

"Ruby, Dean, Meg…you have the three highest scores," Gabriel said, and Dean felt his shoulders sag a little with relief. "That means Sarah, Benny, and Balthazar, you have the lowest scores. Let's bring out your models."

On cue, the six models came out to the runway, Jessica giving Dean one of her bright smiles before turning to face the judges. As usual, they started with the top three scores.

"Meg. Tell us about your look," Gabriel said, and Meg smirked and turned to her dress.

"It's similar to what I wore to prom, only, you know. In tape," she said, holding out the skirt. "I just folded the tape into strips, cut them, then weaved them together on a tape backing to keep them in place."

"I'm frankly amazed at the amount of intricacy in this look when you only had two days to complete it," Naomi said, shaking her head. "I'm impressed. It's a beautiful gown."

"I love the color choice. Red is always good for the wow factor," Crowley pointed out, and Gabriel nodded.

"Color really made this dress just that much more impressive. It was a good choice."

"I would wear this dress, for sure," Paris pointed out. "Even if it's a prom dress, I don't care. I love it."

"Thank you," Meg said, and while most people in her position might look happy or thankful, she just looked…smug. Dean wasn't surprised.

"Ruby. Tell us, where did you come up with the idea for this one?" Gabriel asked Ruby, and she smiled sweetly.

"I just saw the colors, and it reminded me of the local butterfly garden. I saw a butterfly there with these colors, and I've always wanted to do something fun with it."

"Well, it's certainly fun, but I do worry if it might be a little too gimmicky. Over the top," Naomi pointed out, and Paris shook her head.

"No way. I love the story behind it, I think it's sweet. I don't think it's gimmicky at all," she said, and Gabriel nodded.

"Sometimes I like things a little more abstract, but this dress works, in my opinion."

"We'll have to agree to disagree a little, then," Crowley said, leaning back in his chair. "It's beautifully made, and it's a pretty dress, but I do agree that it's a bit…literal. Well done, though."

"Dean," Gabriel said, and Dean turned his attention back to the judges from where he'd been studying Ruby's dress. "Tell us about your look."

"Well, I've made a lot of prom dresses. And most of them have the huge skirts, so I kind of got tired of that. I decided to do something a little more sleek, a little more streamlined," he said, and Naomi nodded.

"It certainly is sleek. I do worry about the appropriateness of it, considering the age group in question," she said, and Dean shrugged.

"Yeah, it's a little low on the top, but I liked it that way. I would have had to sacrifice other detailing to have time to change the top."

"It's gorgeous," Paris said, studying the dress carefully. "I mean, it's not totally prom-dressy, but I could totally wear this. I like the design down the front of the skirt."

"And you do know how to do a perfect fit on a woman's body, I'll give you that," Crowley pointed out, and Dean smiled a little wider, because hell if that wasn't a great compliment- some designers struggled with fit for years.

"Thank you," Dean said. Gabriel turned to Benny, flipping to the next set of cards and eyeing the black dress closely.

"Benny. Is your girl going to prom, or to the AVN Awards?" he asked, and to his credit, Benny didn't bat an eyelash at the jab.

"Didn't quite turn out like I planned it to. Thought the silver would do more to take away from the black," he said, and Crowley chuckled.

"All she needs is a set of thigh high boots and a whip, and this is no longer a family friendly show."

Gabriel grinned. "Oh, I think Balthazar already took care of that last week," he said, earning angry glares from the other judges and a few crew members.

"It's a really misguided effort, darling," Naomi said, and Benny nodded as they moved on to the next on their victim list, which happened to be poor Sarah.

"Sarah. Please, do explain. We're all dying to know about this dress," Gabriel said, and Dean could already see the lines of defeat in her face and her sagging shoulders.

"I wanted to do something new and eye catching with the colors," she said, tugging at a ruffle. "I realized after the first day that it was a bit much, but it was too late to start over, so…I decided to go with it."

"Oh, you went with it. Right over a cliff, I think," Crowley said, narrowing his eyes at the dress. "The colors are unfortunate enough, but then you went overboard trying to make up for the colors by adding ruffles and bows that, quite frankly, make it worse."

Paris nodded. "Sorry, honey, but this is really kind of hideous. Just saying," she said, and Sarah nodded and looked down, resigned to the fact that she had bombed, badly.

The last person they spoke to was Balthazar, who obviously had no shame and no worries about being in the bottom. "I made this dress for a girl with no fear," he said proudly. "It's daring. It's not mainstream. She'll be the center of attention."

Gabriel scoffed. "Yeah, the center of attention for having the word 'DANGER' right over her crotch. She's like a walking STD warning," he said, and Dean had to bite the inside of his cheek not to laugh.

"There are ways this could have been done with more subtlety. And less skin showing," Naomi pointed out, only getting an eye roll in return. Paris, though, tilted her head at the dress curiously.

"I don't know, if it were tweaked a little, I would wear it. I think it's hip."

"Oh dear Christ," Balthazar muttered, following it up with something that sounded like 'now I have to burn the bloody thing', but his microphone didn't catch it. Lucky for him, Paris hadn't noticed, either.

"Alright, designers. Please leave the runway, and we'll call you back when we're ready to make our decision," Gabriel said, and the designers slowly filed out to the waiting room, where couches and snacks were set up.

Everyone seemed to just collapse after the full day of stress and last minute alterations. Dean was just relieved he was safe again for the second week in a row, after he hadn't expected to last one week. And not only safe, but in the top three both times.

"Congratulations on beating all the expectations everyone had for a mechanic from Kansas," Balthazar said, holding up a soda in a mock toast before taking a swig, and Dean rolled his eyes.

"I didn't get here by showing them cars, you know," he muttered, the 'mechanic' thing already getting old, with everyone poking fun about it. Luckily, Kevin took the attention off him.

"I'm sick of being safe. I can't win by being safe," Kevin complained, lying down with his head on Jo's lap. She nearly laughed.

"Yeah, I hear you. Being just safe sucks," she said, and Sarah groaned.

"I would kill for just safe right about now. This sucks."

Dean was just happy the conversation wasn't about him anymore, and he was happy to leave it like that. He caught Castiel's eye, and the man gave him a quick smile before looking back down at his glass of water.

It was just as long a wait as last time. By the time they were called back out, they had sprawled all over the couch and floor and were playing a rigged game of I Spy that Balthazar insisted on cheating on. They were definitely alert, though, when the PA told them to go back out to the runway.

Dean took his place with the other five in the highest and lowest scores, the other designers in the seats off the runway as the judges waited for everyone to get into place.

"Good job this week, designers. As a general rule, we were impressed," Gabriel said. "And now, the important part. First…Dean, you are safe."

Dean smiled and nodded. He wasn't surprised; he hadn't honestly been expecting to win. Gabriel looked at Ruby, letting them sweat for a few more seconds.

"Ruby…you are also safe. Which means that Meg is the winner of this challenge!"

The designers clapped halfheartedly as Meg did a good job of faking surprise and thanking the judges. Gabriel made quick work of informing her that she had immunity before shifting his attention to the bottom three.

"Balthazar…you are safe," he said, and Balthazar nodded like it was well deserved. Gabriel looked first at Benny, then at Sarah. "Benny…your look lacked taste, and wasn't anything to write home about in style or silhouette. Sarah, you had the opposite problem; you gave us way, way too much."

The pauses were even longer than they felt on TV. Gabriel let them worry for what felt like a full minute before he finally spoke again.

"Sarah…I'm sorry, but you're out," he said, and she swallowed hard and nodded.

"Thank you for the opportunity," she said with a smile, and the judges dismissed them, sending all the designers back to the waiting room, where Tim was waiting for them.

"Sarah," he said, pulling her into a hug. "You're a talented designer. I'm sure we'll be seeing more of your work. But for now, I've got to send you to clean up your space."

She nodded, chin held high as she smiled and made the rounds giving hugs to everyone. Dean felt a little bad for not getting to know her better before she left, but he did only have three days. In TV-world these challenges were portrayed as once a week- but it had been three days, and the first two challenges were already done.

Sarah left with one of the PAs, and Tim turned to the rest of the group. "Same routine as last time, designers. They'll call you back one at a time to do your confessional, and then I'd like to treat you all to dinner as congratulations for surviving your first two challenges. Sound good?"

Hell yes, it sounded good. Dean would have killed for some food that wasn't mass-produced and frozen right about now. But first, there was the long wait while confessionals happened, made worse by the fact that they were 'on ice' and ordered not to speak to each other till confessionals were over- and it was worst for him, he felt, because he was the first called back.

He had to get used to the setup again- answering in present tense, talking to the camera and not the producer asking the questions, all that awkward shit. He was caught off guard, though, when the producer had finished the recap and moved on to other, random questions.

"What do you say to the fact that Meg and Ruby have been saying that you've only gotten this far by luck, and have no business being here? They're convinced you'll fold in the first fabric challenge," the producer said, and Dean gave him a look of disbelief.

"What?"

The producer pointed to the camera. "Camera, not me."

Dean didn't want to look at the camera. He wanted to punch it. But he took a deep breath and looked back at the lens before speaking. "I think we all got here based on genuine talent, and that will show in every challenge. I don't think anyone here didn't get here fairly. They're all great designers."

"Especially Castiel, right?"

Dean broke protocol and looked at the guy again. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Camera, Dean."

"Dude, fuck the camera."

"Please don't," the cameraman squeaked, which completely ruined the mood considering it made everyone in the room crack the hell up, resulting in the disgruntled producer telling Dean he could go. He went back out to the waiting room, deliberately avoiding looking at Ruby or Meg as he found a seat between Kevin and Castiel. He couldn't complain to them out loud, but they both could definitely tell that he was mad about something, because they both gave him looks that were equal parts supportive and curious.

He did know one thing- on this next challenge, he was going to kick Meg and Ruby's asses at whatever they did. He didn't care what the challenge was, he would take them the fuck down.

* * *

By the time everyone finished with confessionals, they were all starving. Luckily the restaurant Tim had reserved for them was less than a block away, and it wasn't a suit and tie place; it was an all-American upscale diner, which seemed to please Castiel beyond measure. He and Dean sat with Jo, Charlie, Benny, Jody, and Kevin at one end of the table, where Castiel practically inhaled a cheeseburger out of sheer delight.

"You have a fetish for burgers or something," he said as Castiel licked ketchup off the tips of his fingers, which was entirely unnecessary and distracting, by the way, and Dean totally wasn't staring. Or maybe he was staring a little till he noticed the cameraman had the camera aimed right at his face.

"I just like them," Castiel said, blushing a little.

"Hey, Clarence," Meg called from the other end of the table with a smirk. "You're a designer, you know. You don't have to sit at the misfit end of the table."

Dean was all ready to stand up for Castiel, ready to put Meg in her place; but it turned out that he didn't need to. Castiel raised an eyebrow at her, his eyes skimming over Balthazar and Ruby before he shrugged.

"Designer, yes. But I don't think I fit the other requirement for that end of the table, which seems to be extreme arrogance."

Jody nearly inhaled milkshake when that remark came out of Castiel, of all people, and Dean had to admit he probably gaped a little. Castiel went back to eating his fries even as Meg glared daggers at him, though Balthazar actually looked amused by it; probably because Balthazar had no illusions that he wasn't an arrogant asshole. He seemed to take pride in it.

It seemed the battle lines had been drawn- and Dean, for one, knew he was on the right team here.

And tomorrow, he was going to kick the other team's ass with some fabric and a pair of scissors. He wanted to see their faces when the 'mechanic' wiped the floor with them.


	4. To The Left

AN: As always, if you want to see pictures of what the creations of the designers look like, I recommend reading over at Ao3. I post links there to approximations of all the designers' looks at the end of each chapter. If you don't care about the pictures, read away! :3

* * *

To say that the atmosphere at the runway meeting the next morning was icy would be a massive understatement.

Dean was pissed off at Ruby and Meg for talking shit about him in confessionals, Ruby and Meg were mad at Castiel for giving them the brush off at dinner, and some people were trying desperately to stay completely neutral and out of the conflict. Balthazar, meanwhile, didn't seem to give a shit what kind of infighting was going on; Dean almost wished he could be that laissez faire about the whole thing.

Luckily, they didn't have to sit there and stew in the awkward situation for too long before Gabriel came out onto the runway. Dean was actually looking forward to a challenge for once- not only would it be a distraction from the crap going on behind the scenes, but he planned to win this one. No ifs, ands, or buts; he was going to prove to the other designers that he'd gotten here on talent and not just for the diversity, not for the ratings grab that would result from sticking someone on here that was so un-designer like.

"Good morning designers! Sleep well?" Gabriel asked, and he got the usual muttering in reply. "Well, I'll bet you guys are dying to get your hands on some real fabric."

"Damn right," Balthazar muttered, and Dean smiled. Yeah, he could agree with that.

"Well, it just so happens that we have an event coming up, and your models need something to wear," Gabriel said with a grin. "And not just any event, but an industry garden party. Anyone who's anyone among designers and models is going to be there, and that means that your model will need to stand out in the best way possible."

An industry party- he could manage that. He knew Jessica's body type, knew what she looked best in; he was confident that he could send her off to that party knowing that she would attract some good attention. It seemed like everyone was a little more alert now, their minds already churning with ideas.

"Tim has more information for you upstairs. I will see you soon, designers. Good luck!" Gabriel said, turning and leaving the runway with a skip in his step.

He was hiding something, Dean knew it.

They didn't waste time in getting upstairs; all of them wanted to get started sketching and find out their budget. Tim stood waiting for them by the tables, and waited for them to gather around one before he started.

"So, as Gabriel said, you are making a dress for your model to attend an industry party," he said, and Dean felt a 'but' coming. "What he didn't tell you is that you will be attending this party with your model, and you will be expected to market your design. The partygoers are going to vote on their favorite look, and those votes will be part of your judging scores this week."

Oh, great.

He was going to have to try and impress people. People that were more high society than him, no less. Hell, he was lucky that Tim and the producer hadn't kicked him out the door at the auditions the second he said he distressed leather by running it over; what would he say to ruin his chances at a party?

He wasn't the only one who looked a little sick at the thought, though. That made him feel a little better. Not much.

"That said, you'll have thirty minutes to sketch, and then we're taking our first trip to Swatches to buy fabric. You'll have a$150 budget, and until midnight tonight to finish. Get started sketching!" Tim said, and Dean went back to his workstation and pulled his sketchbook close.

He wasn't used to sketching out something without a teenage girl looking over his shoulder, telling him to 'add flowers there' or 'more glitter!' It was kind of nice to be able to just draw what came to mind, even though he knew his idea would likely start changing the second he got his hands on the right fabric. So he didn't take it too seriously- he jotted down a basic design, maybe some ruching and shaping, just to get an idea of how much fabric he would need. By the time Tim told them sketching time was up, he didn't have anything completely concrete and it didn't really bother him.

Once again they were loaded into two white vans outside Brighton's, even though the store was only a few blocks away. Not that he was complaining; that meant more time for sewing. But he was confused when they pulled up outside the store, and another white van pulled up behind them- and when they got out, Zachariah and Sarah got out of the other van.

"Why are they here…?" he asked Charlie as they walked into the store, which had a 'closed sign' on the front, listing the hour they'd be closing the store for filming.

"They always take the eliminated designers on the outings and to Swatches," Charlie explained softly. "That was if anyone's on the street watching, they can't snap a picture and post it online and figure out who's out."

Well, that made sense. It also made Dean not want to be out like, ever, because he couldn't imagine having to tag along and watch the other designers keep going in the competition. A PA led Zachariah and Sarah off somewhere else in the store as soon as the doors were closed, and then Tim lined the remaining designers up and handed out the envelopes containing their cash.

"You'll have thirty minutes to shop. When that thirty minutes is up, you must have all your fabric cut and be in line at the register to check out," he explained. "Swatches employees will be posted on all three floors to help you. If you need to know where a type of fabric is, ask them. They'll also take fabric to be cut for you if you need to keep looking."

Three floors? Dean looked past Tim at the sheer amount of giant bolts of fabric just on this first floor, along with the massive shelving units full of notions and trims; beyond that he could see the stairs, and more shelves of fabric at the top of said stairs.

Three huge floors, hundreds of kinds of fabric.

No way would thirty minutes be enough.

Dean realized that he was being stared at; he looked down, and there was a tiny dog-rat thing staring up at him, a mostly hairless animal with puffs of fur on its ears and feet, and Dean shifted uncomfortably. It continued to stare, the bandana around its neck nearly sparkling in the light, obviously made of some ridiculously expensive fabric.

"Don't mind Chiffon. He's the store mascot," Tim said with a chuckle. "Are you all ready to go?"

No. Dean would never be ready. And the dog thing was still staring at him.

"Okay, your time starts…now!"

Damnit.

He didn't know where to start; the second he reached the rows upon rows of fabric, he was overwhelmed, and it didn't help that there was a camera following right behind him. He was used to tiny fabric shops, maybe a hundred kinds of fabric at most, and even in those he could spend hours. If he'd needed any special fabrics back home, he ordered them off the internet. Here, there were probably five hundred fabrics just on this floor.

For now, he needed to stick with what he was good at. He could branch out later when the judges expected to see different things, but since this was the first challenge using actual fabric, he needed to show off a little.

Satin. A whole long row of dozens of colors of satin; he was good with satin. This was doable. In the wrong hands satin could look cheap as fuck, but he'd worked with satin so much it was one of his easiest fabrics. He could throw together a basic satin dress in his sleep, which meant he would only have to worry about the extraneous things, like the ruching and embellishments.

He scanned the bolts as quickly as possible, passing over the bright red- too risky- and the pink, which was not a color that he could make look good at any kind of serious event. He stopped and knelt down when he spotted a bolt of dark blue satin, a navy color that wasn't too shiny. The price wasn't bad, either.

He pulled on the bolt, and fuck, these bolts were _huge_, much longer and heavier than the bolts of fabric he normally dealt with. He hefted it onto his shoulder and walked back to the aisle, where one of the employees was waiting, a girl who couldn't be over five feet tall and 90 pounds dripping wet.

"Need that cut?" she asked with a bright smile, holding out her hands, and Dean hesitated before hefting the bolt of fabric off his shoulder.

"Sure. Um, five yards, please," he said, certain that that would give him enough extra fabric in case he messed something up horribly. "Be careful, it's heavy."

The girl lifted the bolt onto her own shoulder like it was made of feathers, gave him a wink, and then was off toward the cutting tables. Okay, now he felt like a wimp, too. And kind of a jerk.

"Twenty minutes, designers!" he heard Tim yell, and he snapped out of his momentary daze and headed for the trims. Blue satin alone wouldn't cut it; it needed a kick.

There was an entire wall of different trims, all rolled onto the plastic spools and neatly tucked onto the shelves. Dean kept the shade of blue he'd picked at the front of his mind, scanning each shelf and turning down each trim one by one. It had to be perfect., and he wasn't touching most of these fringes, especially not the ones that would make it look like a flapper dress.

One caught his eye; it wasn't easy to miss. It was a long, thick trim adorned with circular metallic embellishments that caught the light, and when he picked up the spool and unwound a bit, it really moved well. This was it; a little bit of a risk, maybe, but it was exactly what it needed considering the satin was a solid color. He would just have to find a way to work it into the design without going overboard; too much of this could overwhelm the fabric.

Too much of it could overwhelm his budget, too. Ouch. He winced at the price tag, doing some mental math to figure out how much he could actually afford and still have money left for notions.

He took it back to the cutting table, where the girl was just finishing cutting his fabric, and he slid the spool over to her. "Three yards of this, please," he said, and then he jumped when a bolt of fabric thudded down on the table next to him- a bolt of hot pink silk. It was retina-searing.

"Four yards, my good man," Balthazar said, sliding it to the other employee who was standing ready to cut. Dean didn't even know what to say- he just looked at the fabric in what was probably plain horror, looked up at Balthazar, and then back at the fabric.

Balthazar just smirked. "No sense of adventure, Winchester?"

"I…don't know what I'd call that, but it sure wouldn't be 'adventure'," Dean pointed out, but Balthazar was undeterred.

Luckily, Dean got an excuse to get far, far away from that hideous fabric; the girl slid his own fabric and trim across the table to him with a smile and a 'good luck', and he thanked her and headed straight for the notions. He wasn't going to screw himself by forgetting the fucking zipper and hem tape, that was for damn sure. And a hook and eye, just to be safe.

He'd just gotten into the line when Tim called time, and he let out a sigh of relief. The first shopping trip hadn't been a disaster. And unlike a couple other people, he actually came up a little under budget, at just under 140 dollars.

It was a few minutes of waiting for everyone to get checked out, and three people had gone over budget and had to make a last minute decision. One of those was Charlie; Dean couldn't see what she had on the counter, but whatever it was, it was 17 dollars a yard. She was eight dollars over budget, and trying to decide what to put back.

"Hey, Tim…can I donate my change to another designer?" he asked, and Tim smiled.

"Absolutely. Hasn't happened often, though."

Well, it was about to happen again. Dean tugged the ten dollar bill out of his envelope and leaned by Charlie a little to slide it across the counter to the person running the cash register.

Charlie grinned and hugged him so tight he thought he felt his spine pop. "You're the greatest, Dean! I owe you. I'll sneak booze into your apartment or something," she declared, and while Dean appreciated the gesture, he was pretty sure that was something she wouldn't be able to pull off. They were monitored like convicts everywhere they went.

As soon as everyone was done buying their supplies, Tim told them to line up again with their bags.

…that damn dog thing was staring again. Dean tried to ignore it, but he could feel its gaze still on him.

"Well, designers, it wouldn't be All Star Designer without a twist," Tim said, and Dean froze, his stomach dropping. A twist? They had until midnight to finish a dress that would impress some really fucking important people, and there was a twist?

"I would like each of you to pass your Swatches bag to the person on your left," Tim continued, and Dean's dread deepened. Now they were using someone else's fabric choice?

He turned to his left and had a small measure of relief; at least he was standing next to Charlie and not Balthazar. Charlie handed over the bag with an apologetic shrug, and Dean turned and passed his own bag to the person on his other side- which turned out to be Meg.

He really hoped she hated satin.

"Alright. You can look at your new fabric when we get back to the workroom," Tim said, clapping his hands together and leading the way toward the door. The dog rat thing followed them to the door, watching them closely as they left and piled back into the vans.

"You didn't get like…neoprene, right?" Dean asked Charlie as the vans pulled away from the curb, and she laughed.

"Not neoprene. Still don't know if you'll like it, though."

"Comforting. At least I know it was expensive," he teased, sharing a look with Castiel, who was glaring at his bag like it had personally offended him. Dean couldn't blame him. "Cas, whose fabric did you get?"

"Kevin's," Castiel said, giving the younger designer a wary look, as if he imagined a bag full of crushed velvet and scorpions.

"Yeah, well, I got Ruby's. I'd like to think you prefer getting my fabric over hers," Kevin pointed out, and Castiel only hesitated a second before chuckling.

"That, you're right about."

Nobody waited long before dumping the contents of their new bags out on their workstation when they got back to the workroom. Dean felt his heart drop and he took a long, slow breath when he saw what he'd be working with- a bright red soft jersey fabric, and a lot of matching red lace.

Jesus Christ, Jessica was going to look like a lingerie model at that party.

"Charlie, what were you planning to _make_?" he asked, turning around and giving her a look. She laughed and shrugged.

"I like lacy things, so sue me," she said, holding up a bundle of lavender colored tulle. "And at least you didn't get ballet queen material."

"It was not going to be a tutu," Castiel muttered, his own workstation covered in black tulle, black cotton, and…was that black patent leather?

"At least you didn't get Balthazar's," Dean pointed out, looking around to try and see who did end up with that mess. Turned out, he only had to look forward- poor Benny was the one saddled with the amalgamation of hot pink materials.

"Benny, man, I'm sorry," Dean said, and he really meant it, because no one deserved that. Benny just laughed.

"I'll make do, brother. I always do."

Dean sighed again and pulled his sketchbook back to the edge of the table, studying his rough sketch- and then tearing it out and balling it up. It wouldn't work with this fabric, not in the least. He was still determined to win this one, and if he had to do it with some red lace, he would find a way.

He started sketching, stopping to unfold the material and see how much he was working with- not enough for his comfort. There wouldn't be room for error; when you had to buy expensive lace for a project, you had to cut corners on your budget. After a half hour or so he finally had an idea he thought might work- a mid-thigh sleeveless scoop neck red dress with the red lace overlaid over the top, and red lace long sleeves. Hopefully, the long sleeves would be enough to counter the tendency to look like lingerie, without tipping the scale all the way to old fashioned. At least the lace was red and not white or off-white, which would have added 'bridal' to the list of things he desperately needed to avoid.

He decided to get the jersey cloth dress done first, and get it done as quickly as he could. He rarely worked with lace, so he'd need all the time he could spare for the lace overlay; he was used to doing lace detailing, but not an overlay for an entire dress. He set to work with his pattern paper, the room mostly silent as everyone began to work.

Silent, except for the occasional muttering from Meg, who evidently thought Dean's choice in fabric had been 'shitty and cheap'. Served her right.

It didn't take long to cut the pattern, and then cut the fabric accordingly. The basic dress itself was simple, and in no time Dean was taking his work back to the sewing room, picking out one of the sewing machines and turning it on.

It was definitely a step up from the one he had back home. Okay, more like fifty steps up. He had to take a few minutes to get used to it, sewing on a scrap piece of fabric at first to see how sensitive the pedal was, and then he set to work on the dress.

It wasn't long before he decided that whether or not he won, he still wanted one of these for his house.

He was just coming back into the workroom with only hand sewn details left to finish when Charlie grabbed his arm. "Lunchtime!" she said cheerfully, and Dean was more than willing to give his mind a rest; Charlie convinced Benny, Jo, Kevin, and Castiel to join them, and they all went to the break room, where instead of sandwiches there was Chinese food waiting for them.

"I can't believe I got your girly fabric, Cas," Charlie muttered, and Dean rolled his eyes as he filled his plate.

"You had 5 yards of _lace_, Charlie."

"Lace can be hardcore!"

"Yeah, maybe hardcore _porn_."

"Children, break it up," Kevin said with a laugh. "At least they didn't give us sandwiches again."

Everyone was taking advantage; they all came back to the couches with a full plate of food, though while Castiel and Kevin opted for chopsticks, the rest of them stuck with forks. Dean couldn't afford to take a three-hour lunch break trying to use sticks to eat his food.

"Meg's not doing good," Jo pointed out with a smirk; being on the other side of the room, she had a good angle on Meg's table. "Which is hilarious, because she's mad at you for getting her stuck with satin when she just got a more expensive satin that I ended up stuck with. I think she's just mad she got your fabric at all."

"No one's allowed to complain about the fabric they got," Benny muttered, stabbing at a piece of chicken rather violently.

"Sorry you ended up with Life Size Barbie material," Charlie said, giving him a sympathetic look. "But hey, if you pull it off, they'll be that much more impressed!"

Somehow, Benny didn't seem convinced. Dean moved the topic on to teasing Castiel about ending up with enough patent leather to make an S&M harness or something, though Kevin was quick to point out that he did not pick out patent leather with porn in mind.

Unfortunately, they couldn't stay out here and just chat forever. Dean had the entire lace overlay of his dress to do, so as soon as he finished his food he went back to work, finishing the final details on the base dress before setting it aside.

He'd just started cutting the lace when Tim came by to see how they were doing, and honestly, Dean was relieved. He didn't know if he'd done enough editing of the design to save it from being plain raunchy, and a fresh set of eyes on the piece couldn't hurt.

Poor Benny got his critique first, though. The first thing Tim did was the very same thing Dean had done when he saw the fabric; he stood and stared at it, as if waiting for it to come alive and crawl off the table.

"I know, it's bad," Benny said with a chuckle, and Tim laughed.

"You're certainly starting with a handicap. What do you have done so far?"

Benny turned his dress form around, blue tape outlining where he planned to pin the neckline. "Gonna do a sweetheart neckline with a sheer overlay for the straps and back. Might use some more of the tulle over the skirt, I…I'm not sure yet. Not sure of much of anything."

Tim studied the fabric for a few more moments before speaking. "The overlay sounds like it could work. I worry, though, about doing too much with the skirt. You don't want this to end up looking like Barbie's first prom dress."

Benny nodded. "Right. Yeah, I understand. I just didn't have enough fabric to do a whole sheathe dress, and that would've been…underwhelming, anyway."

Tim clapped him on the shoulder and gave him a reassuring smile. "I know you can come up with something. Keep working, alright?" he said before moving on to Dean's table, where Dean had gotten the base dress fitted onto the dress form while Tim had been critiquing Benny.

"I do hope you're adding more fabric to this," Tim said with a chuckle, and Dean nodded.

"Yeah. This is just the base dress. I didn't have much of the jersey to work with, so," he started, holding out his sketchpad to Tim. "I'm going to do a lace overlay over the whole dress, and long lace sleeves. Trying to make this look…"

"Not like underwear?" Tim finished, and Dean laughed nervously.

"Yeah. Not like underwear."

Tim fell silent again; this was always the worst part, waiting as he stared at your work, waiting for the verdict that could either catapult the creative process or end in scrapping everything you've done so far.

"Well, you're straddling a line here, but I have faith in you," Tim finally said, setting the sketchpad down at the table. "You know what you're aiming for, you just need to do it."

Dean smiled with relief. "Got it. Carry on, right?"

"Carry on," Tim agreed, moving down to Castiel's workstation next.

Castiel was actually in pretty good shape; he was almost finished making a form fitting bodice out of the patent leather, and from there on it looked to be smooth sailing, because Dean knew Castiel could easily whip up an awesome skirt in the time they had left. His only disadvantage was the lack of color, but that part wasn't his fault.

The first thing Tim told Charlie was that her dress looked like a bridesmaid dress- and pretty one, but still a bridesmaid dress. Right now all she had was a draped bodice and a flowy skirt, pinned and ready to sew. She dropped her forehead on the table with a groan of frustration, but recovered long enough for Tim to tell her she had some good draping going on, and adjusting the rest of the dress to fit that style might rescue it from the dreaded 'bridesmaid' label.

None of the other critiques were anything surprising, unless you counted the fact that Tim actually loved what Balthazar had done so far; Dean had never been a fan of sack dresses, but at least Balthazar had ended up with a nice coral color to use for it instead of hot pink. Both Ruby and Kevin got scolded for their dresses being a little too short and tight; Ruby had ended up with a nude fabric with a slight shine to it, and Kevin's was nearly the same, except for the black lace overlay built into the fabric.

Jody's was straddling the line between 'statement' and 'costume'- she'd been handed a black wool with silver detailing and a white wool, and instead of doing the expected coat dress, she was doing more of a plain dress with a white collar. It was looking a little schoolgirl, in an odd way. Jo was quickly warned to stick to the shaping she'd started or hers would end up looking too prom- the 'more expensive' satin she'd gotten from Meg was a bright, vivid purple, but Jo was salvaging the intense color with decorative draping and ruching on the front.

But when Tim got to Meg, the tension in the room dialed up. She was crossing her arms and staring at her dress form, and while Dean couldn't see the front of the dress, the back looked so incredibly prom that it wasn't even funny. He'd bought the extra fabric for ruching, not to make a ball gown.

"Meg, I'll be honest…this screams Miss America to me. You're just missing the sash and crown," Tim pointed out, and Meg laughed.

"Yeah, that's what happens when you get someone else's shitty fabric."

"Everyone else is challenged by this. You're not the only one working with unfamiliar materials," Tim pointed out, looking at the dress again. "I would step back and seriously edit this. You don't want to drench your model in fabric."

Meg didn't bother answering him; she just sighed and went back to work, and Tim walked back to the middle of the room.

"Designers, your models will be here shortly after dinner for their fitting. Tomorrow morning you will only have two hours for hair and makeup, so you need to make sure that your garment is as close to finished as it can possibly be when you leave tonight," he announced. "I have faith in all of you, so keep working hard."

Dean didn't need a reminder to work hard. He went back to work cutting out the lace, taking his time with this part, because he couldn't mess up with this fabric. As it was, the stuff was difficult to work with, and he cursed at it more than once as he tried to find a way to make the stuff cooperate.

"Dean, here," Castiel said, and Dean jumped, not expecting to hear his voice from right behind him. He looked up and Castiel was holding out a can to him, and he gave it a suspicious look.

"…is that hairspray?"

Castiel chuckled, and then held out his hand toward the lace. "May I?"

If anyone else asked, Dean may have thought a few seconds longer before handing it over. As it was, he held the lace out to Castiel, and he spread the pieces out on Dean's table carefully.

"You'll want to wipe down your table after this," he said, and then he began spraying a light coating onto the pieces, working slowly and thoroughly. "This is starch spray. It'll stiffen up the lace for you, make it easier to work with."

Dean leaned forward on the table, watching him work. "You use lace a lot?"

"All the time. I think it's underrated in modern use," Castiel said with a nod, finishing up with the last piece and looking back at Dean. And yeah, they were a little close, but Dean couldn't bring himself to care- that is, not until a camera moved in close, and Castiel jerked back and shifted awkwardly.

"Well, I…you can borrow it, anytime you need it. I figured other people might not bring any, so…" he said, backing up toward his table. Dean gave him a smile.

"Thanks, Cas. I appreciate it."

Castiel just returned the smile before going back to his own work, and Charlie cleared her throat loudly- and when Dean turned to look at her, she grinned and winked. Dean grabbed his balled up sketch from earlier and lobbed it at her face, to which she just laughed and batted it away.

He wasn't going to survive this challenge, let alone the whole show. He was sure of it.

It seemed like nobody ate dinner at the same time. Each of them found ten minutes or so away from their work to shovel in the required meal before getting right back to it- Dean was still working on the main bulk of the lace dress, and hadn't even gotten to the sleeves yet. Even with Castiel's trick, the lace was finicky and difficult to work with.

But by the time Jessica showed up for a fitting, he had a decent amount to try on her- luckily the lace had at least a little give to it, so if he made it a little too tight in the sleeves, it would stretch just enough. He helped her into the jersey dress, then began pinning the lace over it and having a look at the progress.

"Think I'm actually going to leave the lace hem a few inches longer than the jersey," he said, stepping back and looking her up and down. Right now it still looked a little too Frederick's of Hollywood for his taste, but hopefully the sleeves would change that. He was beginning to wonder if he'd even be safe, let alone win the challenge, if he didn't play this right.

"I think it's going to be classy," Jessica said, and Dean laughed, carefully pinning the lace to the jersey neckline.

"Well, if you say so, then we're set," he teased, though he was a little relieved that it at least passed Jessica's inspection so far. He had the feeling if something was bad, she would tell him. Loudly.

"Alright, you can shimmy out of that now. Don't stab yourself with the pins," he said. The chatter of the models was filling the room- normally they weren't this talkative with each other during fittings, but they were all excited about the party. It was just as big a deal for them as it was for the designers.

It was yet another reason to feel bad for Benny and his model. Dean wished he had time to lend the guy a hand, to try and salvage it somehow, but he was down to the wire on his own work. As it was, Benny's dress looked like an unfortunate pink explosion on his slender model; Dean would have definitely stuck with a plain fitted skirt, even if it was a little boring. He only got a glimpse of Meg's, but there was still way too much fabric involved- he could tell that from across the room.

"Alright, don't set it on fire before tomorrow or anything," Jessica said sternly as she handed the dress back to him and pulled her jeans and t-shirt back on. "The guy who runs Paragon Model Management is going to be there, and I am going to get his attention, one way or another."

"Don't worry. I'll make you look good," Dean said with a smile, giving her a half hug before she and the other models had to leave.

Back to the grindstone, with only a few hours left to go.

He wasn't in as bad of shape as some of the others when the clock hit midnight. He had both sleeves finished and one attached; he would just have to attach the other sleeve and make the final adjustments in the scant time he would have while Jessica was in hair and makeup. It seemed like every challenge was going to end up that way, with him throwing frantic directions at a poor stylist before running back to finish a hem or a sleeve.

There was almost no chatter on the way back to the Saturn apartments; Dean walked a little behind the group, falling into step beside Castiel.

"You doing okay on time?" Dean asked him, and Castiel shrugged.

"Won't have all the time that I'd like, but…it'll get done."

"Same here. If there's a disaster in the morning, my model is going to be trying to bring back the one sleeve fashion statement."

That at least earned a smile from Castiel, but both of them were too exhausted to make any more small talk. Dean barely convinced himself to take the time to change into pajamas before collapsing into bed, dreading the 8am wakeup call.

* * *

The lack of sleep was catching up with all of them; Jo knocked over her dress form twice and Dean stabbed himself with a needle hard enough to bleed before the models even got there the next morning. And it was only took the models ten minutes to get there.

The moment Jessica walked in, Dean was turning her around and grabbing her by the hand to lead her up to the salon. He didn't want anything too sexy that would accentuate the tendency toward overly sexy in the outfit, so her told the guy to do a messy, curly updo, something simple and effortless. That done, he returned to the workroom and went back to attaching the remaining sleeve, this time forcing himself to work a little slower so he didn't risk bleeding all over the garment.

He could see it now; talking with a top designer and explaining how the blood stains are totally there on purpose because they give the piece character. Who knows, that kind of thing might actually go over well in these social circles; they seemed to go through those phases when they wanted everything to be 'gritty' and 'edgy'.

It seemed like five minutes later that Jessica returned, when it had actually been a little over an hour, and he stepped away long enough to instruct the makeup artists on what he wanted- mascara, subtle eyeliner, nothing crazy. It was a lunch party, after all, not a nightclub; a smoky eye would look a little too sexy, between the dress and the event.

He'd just finished attaching the sleeve and adjusting the hems at the wrists when Jessica came back, with five minutes to spare before Tim came to get them. Dean got her into the dress and set to work clipping threads and checking seams, which he was still doing when Tim announced that it was time to go.

He stood up and gave the dress one more long look; he'd done the best he could, really, and he was damn proud. If the judges didn't like it, well, he couldn't win their admiration every time.

"It's great, Dean. They'll love it," Jessica insisted, looping her arm through his and practically dragging him toward the door. "No more fixing. Let's do this. We'll knock their socks off."

She had more confidence than he did, that was for sure.

Their transportation for this trip was a step up from the usual; they piled into two stretch limos, with Dean, Kevin, Ruby, Castiel, Jo, and Benny in the front limo, and the other designers plus Sarah and Zachariah into the other. Dean wished that he had more time to enjoy the amenities; there was a TV in this thing, along with a tiny refrigerator that he was sure had some kind of alcohol in it.

"This is too short. And the hem is scratchy," Elizabeth, Kevin's model, complained as the limos pulled away from Brighton's, squirming in her seat like a five year old who didn't get to wear the dress she wanted. "Couldn't you have done something about this hem?"

"Oh my god, shut the hell up," Benny's model snapped, and what ensued was one of the most intense staring contests Dean had ever been witness to; eventually, though, Elizabeth turned away and scoffed, still tugging at the hem of the dress. Kevin didn't even try to bother reasoning with her; Dean had only seen her antics a few times, but even he knew she was one of those people who just didn't deal in reason.

It wasn't far to the party location. Turns out when someone in New York City says 'garden party', it's more likely to mean 'pretty plants and grass rolled out on the roof of a really tall building' than being in an actual garden. Tim led them into the lobby of the building, and Sarah and Zachariah were whisked away to wherever they kept the eliminated contestants on ice.

"Alright, remember designers, your work itself is only part of your score here. In order to earn votes, you will have to sell yourself and your dress. Personality is often the deciding factor, and could be the tipping point, even if a garment is flawed," Tim explained, checking his watch. "You'll have one hour to mingle, and then we'll meet back here to go back to Brighton's, where we'll have the runway show as soon as we return."

Well, this would be a fun day; first he would have to impress some really important industry people, then go straight to the weekly judging with little break. The stress was going to give him an early heart attack.

The party itself was lavish; Dean had worn his 'nice' jeans and a t-shirt, and he definitely wasn't the norm here. The women were showing off their designer clothing and jewelry that was probably worth more than his yearly rent, and most of the men were in well fitting tuxes and suits. Hell, at least he knew he'd grab attention with his casual look.

"Shall we?" he said, offering his arm to Jessica and taking a deep breath before they waded into the thick of it. Within minutes there was a champagne glass shoved in his hand, and he was explaining to two models how he'd ended up with the materials he used for the outfit. Luckily they seemed to like it, and minutes later one of them showed up again with an older man in tow.

"Dean, this is Ted McCullough. He runs Paragon Model Management, my agency," the model said, and Dean straightened up and shook Ted's hand with a smile that he hoped didn't look too nervous.

"And who's the lovely lady?" Ted asked as he held out his hand to Jessica- and when she offered her hand, he kissed the back of it.

Show off.

"Jessica Moore," Jessica said, obviously keeping all her excitement on a tight chain as he looked her over.

"It's very well made, and you display it well," he said, wrapping an arm back around the other model's waist. "I'll be keeping an eye on you two," he added, and that quick he was gone, and Dean let out the breath he'd been holding.

"Hey, he liked you!" he said, and he gave Jessica a playful nudge. She smiled brightly, and probably would have jumped with joy if she weren't in heels.

"Told you they'd like it."

And the people here did seem to like the dress. Dean was constantly talking to someone, being introduced to other people, big name designers that sold things he couldn't even afford to buy. It was surreal, and it was nonstop to the point where he only caught glimpses of the other designers and models lingering and chatting with people. He didn't have any chances to eavesdrop or try to see how the other designers were doing in comparison.

A PA slipped through the crowd to him and told him the hour was up, and Dean gratefully headed back toward the elevators, ready for a break from talking about himself and his work. He'd never had to try and sell himself as far as his designing went; people saw his work on other people, and if they liked it, they found him. Here he was expected to straddle the fine line between highlighting his talents and bragging shamelessly. It was mentally exhausting.

They piled back into the limos, and no one talked on the way back to Brighton's; they'd all been talking for an hour straight, and listening to other people talk. Dean was just over it right now. Happy, but ready for a break.

They didn't get a long break. They got to sit in the designers' chairs by the runway and wait for the lighting to be moved into position, the models waiting backstage as the judges finally filed in. Crowley and Naomi were there as usual, and the guest judge Dean immediately recognized as one of the designers from the party. Hell if he could remember the guy's name; he'd had at least a hundred names thrown at him over the course of an hour.

Gabriel stepped onto the runway and gave the designers a curious look. "So, how drunk did you guys get at that shindig?"

"Not as drunk as I'd like to be," Ruby pointed out. Obviously her time at the party didn't go as well as some others, if the look on her face was anything to go by.

"Well, let's hope you're sober enough to defend your work," Gabriel said with a smile, stepping back to gesture at the judges. "For our judging panel today, first we have Fergus Crowley, world renowned designer and CEO of Top Designer Management Agency. Next, we have Naomi Prevot, editor in chief of Eve Magazine. And our guest judge for this week is none other than Michael Astor, a designer whose work has been featured in dozens of top magazines, and a headliner for Paris Fashion Week."

Oh, yeah. That guy. Dean had heard of him, but the Astor label was far and beyond anything he'd had to concern himself with before. Michael smiled at them, but it was an almost predatory smile, more creepy than sincere.

"And of course, I'll be judging your looks as well. Meg, since you won the challenge last week, you are immune and cannot be eliminated today," Gabriel continued, and Meg managed a half smile at that. "That said, let's get on with the show!"

Gabriel headed back to his seat, the lights brightened on the runway and dimmed on the seats, and the quiet music started up- it would no doubt be full volume when it aired, so this was just a placeholder.

The first dress to come around the screen was Balthazar's; and really, Dean didn't hate it. For him, that was high praise for a sack style dress. It hit her at mid-thigh, a silky coral fabric underneath with a sheer layer over the top, the kind of dress that only a nearly six foot tall model would be able to pull off. You really had to be a certain shape and look to be able to wear that without it looking unflattering.

Maybe they should have someone else pick Balthazar's fabric for him for every challenge.

The next dress was Meg's, and Dean had to remind himself not to wince. It looked very, very prom; a floor length navy satin gown, with a slit so high up the front that if she moved wrong the rating of the show would go up. The trim had been used sparingly, more as accent than anything else, and Dean kind of wanted to cry over the waste of expensive materials.

Oh well. Not his problem now.

Kevin's was next, and for all her faults backstage, his model was fierce and flawless on the runway. The nude dress with a black overlay crossed over one of her shoulders, and maybe it was a smidge too short, but she worked it like it was her favorite dress in the world. So much talent, and yet Dean still couldn't stand her. It was a mixed blessing for Kevin, having a great model, but having to put up with her constant attitude, too.

Ruby's dress came next, and it was the example of what Kevin's could have turned out like if he hadn't been careful with the fit. The shiny nude dress pretty much looked like huge Ace bandages wrapped around her, too tight and too short. Jo's model right after that was a breath of fresh air, comparatively. It was still a little prom-looking, but the amazing ruching and shaping on the front of the strapless dress more than made up for it, and Dean had to admit that it was definitely an eye catching color.

Benny's was next, and Dean actually saw Naomi flinch like the thing had slapped her. That was never a good sign. Granted, it was definitely a mess; he'd tried to avoid being too simple and relying on the color for the wow factor, but he'd cranked the dial too far the other way instead; there was just too much, and it was all just too bright, between the silk and lace strapless bodice, the sheer fabric making up the shoulders and back of the dress, and the lace accentuated skirt that had a little too much volume to it. Benny was in trouble.

Charlie's dress was subdued, the fabric showing the faintest hints of lavender to keep it from being straight white. The draping on the top was done perfectly, though it seemed she'd kept a more restrained version of the flowy skirt in place. It was everything Jody's dress wasn't; Jody hadn't managed to pull the dress out of the 'costume' category, between the wool dress that wasn't fitted to the model's shape, the white collar, the white cuffs, and the white strips of fabric along the top of each pocket. It was well made, but it was still a little painful to look at.

And if Jody's could be considered 'well made', then Castiel's could be described as 'tailored to perfection', because the guy seemed to be a master at finishing his garments well. The seams were perfect, the length perfect, everything perfect. The dress itself was a little on the boring side; the patent leather bodice was the best part, and the fact that he'd formed each ruffle in the skirt and one shoulder strap to hold its oversized shape was clever, but all in all it was still a little black dress.

Dean's came last, and he couldn't decide if that was a good or a bad thing. Jessica worked it like she always did, with a little bit of sassy, confident attitude; sure, she wasn't the tallest model or the skinniest here, but he wouldn't trade her for any of the others.

With the runway show over, more waiting began. The judges huddled together, writing on their scorecards, murmuring to each other and pointing to things they'd written; it took the longest of any of the preliminary deliberations yet. Dean was pretty sure the judges just wanted to watch them squirm.

But then they were finally called up onto the runway, and Gabriel gathered his cards together before looking up at the line of designers.

"If I call your name, please step forward," he said, glancing back down at his card before continuing. "Castiel, Ruby, Kevin, and Charlie, please step forward."

Four of them. Six left. Dean knew before Gabriel even said it that those four were safe, and as they returned to their seats, he tried to keep himself convinced that he wouldn't be among the bottom three.

Unless he hadn't managed to yank the dress over the line from 'Victoria's Secret' runway to 'fancy party' runway.

"Our top three this week are Balthazar, Jo, and Dean," Gabriel said, and Dean felt his shoulders sag with relief. "That means that our bottom three are Benny, Jody, and Meg."

He could practically feel the anger radiating from Meg; luckily, Balthazar was standing between the two of them. He was very appreciative of the buffer right now, as the models came out and stood beside their designers. Jessica was ecstatic like always, the serious model look wiped away in favor of her usual smile.

"Let's talk to our top three first. Jo, tell us about your dress," Gabriel said, and Jo took a deep breath and turned toward her model.

"Well, I'm not particularly fond of satin, but I still wanted to try the more sculptural look on the front of the dress," she said, having the model turn a little to the side so they got to see all the angles. "It ended up a little shorter than I wanted, but overall I think it turned out pretty good."

"It did indeed," Crowley said, tapping his pen on the arm of his chair. "The construction is superb, really. There are a lot of details on the front that I missed on the runway."

"I still think it's a little too…prom, for my taste. It reads younger than your model actually is," Naomi pointed out. "But Crowley is right, that the construction is spot on."

"Love the bold color," Gabriel pointed out, and Dean imagined the air getting heavier with Meg's anger at that.

"The color is very good. It was the right fit and styling for the fabric," Michael said. "Especially for only having one day, you did a good job. You did well at the party, too."

"Thank you," Jo said, the relief plain on her face as they moved their attention to Balthazar.

"This is certainly a departure from your previous works," Naomi said, and she looked rather pleased about it, too. "I knew there was a designer in there somewhere. This is a beautiful dress."

"Thank you. I'm rather happy with it myself," Balthazar said, as if that would be a surprise to anyone. Balthazar seemed happy with everything he did, no matter what anyone else might think of it.

"I'm not quite convinced," Crowley said, leaning back in his chair. "You're going to have to prove that this wasn't a fluke. I find it suspicious that the first challenge when you don't choose your own material, you come up with something…classy."

"I think my skills will speak for themselves in the next few challenges," Balthazar insisted with an arrogant smirk.

"Well, not knowing your history here in the competition, I have to say this was one of my favorite dresses today, and you sold it well. So, good job," Michael said, and now Dean was up. He swallowed hard and tried to stay calm, cool, and collected, which was easier said than done with the judges' stares and the hot runway lights bearing down on you.

"Dean, this could have been really, really bad," Gabriel said, shaking his head. "And I don't know how you managed it, but you somehow managed to make red lace high fashion outside of a lingerie show."

Dean chuckled, running his fingers through his hair. "Yeah, I was kind of fighting that the whole time. Did my best, though."

"Well, your best had the most votes at the party today, so congratulations on that," Michael pointed out, and Dean did a mental double take. _He_ had the most votes? Out of everyone?

"Wow, thanks," he managed, taken aback by the news, but definitely in a good way.

"You really took her shape into consideration. The length hits her at just the right place, not short enough to look like a lace nightshirt," Crowley pointed out. "Love the lace being longer than the hem. It was a nice touch to give the illusion of more length."

"The sleeves saved you," Naomi said, but she was smiling as she said it. "As Gabriel said, this could have turned out downright trashy given the materials, but this is a beautiful, well fitting, classy dress."

Dean thanked them, his heart hammering against his ribcage as Jessica gave him a half hug in congratulations. He felt vindicated; he felt like he'd proven that he was here because of what he could do, not for the comic relief of pointing and laughing at the mechanic who wants to design high fashion.

"Benny, this is…it's frankly a travesty," Naomi said to Benny, and he looked down and nodded, not about to disagree with her.

"It's definitely not representative of what I can do," he said, and Crowley snorted.

"Well I would hope not. The bodice is terrible, makes her look even more flat chested than she already is, and the baby doll dress went out of style for a reason."

"There are so many issues with this dress," Michael said with a sigh, looking it over again. "It seems like you just started off on the wrong foot and never got your balance."

"Sounds about right," Benny said with a chuckle. "I can do better than this, I promise you that."

It didn't look like all the judges believed him, and Dean felt his fear for Benny get a little bit worse; surely they would send Jody home instead, right? She'd been in the bottom once and, to be honest, Dean didn't see the same potential in her work that he did in Benny's. But, opinions being subjective, that meant little to nothing in the judging. After all, they didn't like a single thing about Benny's dress. Dean suddenly wasn't so sure it was a clear-cut answer, despite his own opinion.

"Jody, what were you going for with this look?" Gabriel asked Jody, squinting at the dress.

"I wanted to take inspiration from the wool coat, and kind of make it my own, into a dress," Jody said, and Naomi chuckled.

"Well, it's almost…costume. It's reminiscent of those awful wool uniforms that some schools used to have. It's…not really flattering," she pointed out.

"It is well made, I'll give you that. You tailored it well. But that doesn't make up for the fact that this was a big miss for you," Crowley said, and then he gestured at his own collar. "The lace on the collar just puts it over the top."

"They've said it all. While I do see quality workmanship in this, it's just not a good look. It's too dowdy, too old fashioned," Michael said, and Jody bit her lip and nodded as they moved their attention on to Meg.

"Meg, from the top right down to the bottom of the barrel," Crowley said with a smirk, as if taking pleasure in her pain. And okay, yeah, Dean wasn't drumming up any sympathy for her, either.

"It's really pageant, you have to know that," Gabriel said, and Meg rolled her eyes.

"Maybe if my competitor didn't pick out five yards of crappy satin, I could have done more with it," she muttered, and Michael frowned at her, the mock pleasant expression he'd been keeping in place slipping away.

"One of the things I don't tolerate from the designers that work for me are excuses. Sometimes you have to create a garment that's going to hit the sales floor at fifty dollars, and if you have to use four dollars a yard fabric, I damn well expect it to look expensive when you're done," he said, and Dean had to fight to keep from smiling, because _damn_. She just got owned.

"He's right. Some of your competitors ended up with much more challenging fabrics to work with, things that were likely unfamiliar, and they managed to make it work," Naomi pointed out, and Crowley laughed.

"If you honestly have a problem with working with cheap materials, then you would have had a lot more trouble working with the teabags you used in the convenience store challenge," he said, and Meg lifted her chin.

"That's entirely different," she said, her voice still firm. "Okay, I screwed this up. But I am a damn good designer. Better than most of the people you dragged in here."

"We'll see if that confidence floats you or sinks you," Gabriel said, organizing his cards back into a neat stack. "Alright, we have a lot of deliberating to do. We'll call you back out when we're ready."

The designers filed off the runway and back toward the waiting room, and the PAs there greeted them with sympathetic smiles, veggie platters, and trays of sandwiches. Dean figured they all must look pretty beat to hell, if the crew was already feeling sorry for them. Didn't mean he was going to skip the meal, though.

Half the designers, including Dean, Charlie, Castiel, and Benny, sat at the large table in the half-kitchen side of the room, while everyone else sprawled out on the chairs and couches. Meg was ignoring everyone else, preferring to lie across the back of the couch and stare at the ceiling tiles. Kevin and Jo were hanging out and talking, and Ruby and Balthazar were sitting around with Jody, for some odd reason. Then again, Jody had pretty much gotten along with everyone from the first day; he didn't think even Meg had anything against Jody. Yet.

"Don't worry, Benny," Dean said with a hopeful smile. "I honestly don't think it'll be you going home. Really."

Benny smiled, picking at his food, but not eating anything yet. "Thank you for the vote of confidence. And I think you've got this win in the bag. They really liked your dress," he said, and Castiel nodded in agreement.

"Plus the most votes at the party. How did you manage that, anyway?" Castiel teased, and Dean laughed.

"It was all Jessica, let me tell you."

It was the longest deliberation yet. Every time Dean looked at the clock it seemed like only a minute had passed, a minute that felt like hours. The less stressed designers- the safe ones- actually managed to catch a nap while they waited, though Castiel didn't indulge. Dean asked him if he was going to take a nap, and Castiel looked horrified, like the thought of sleeping around the other designers out in the open was the most terrifying thing ever.

So someone had to shake Kevin and Charlie awake when word came that the judges were ready for them. Once everyone was at least somewhat awake and alert, they walked back to the runway, the safe designers dropping into their chairs and the top and bottom three back on the runway under the spotlights.

"We were generally impressed this week. Given the circumstances, most of you surprised us," Gabriel said. "But there has to be a loser. And today, you came as ten and you'll leave as nine."

Dean wanted to tell him to get on with it, that they didn't need the extra suspense, but he knew it was all for TV; these chats would be hacked up and re-edited together, put through a grinder, and taken out of context. Gabriel had to milk the suspense for all it was worth.

"Jo…you're safe. Good job," Gabriel said, and Jo smiled, not without a hint of disappointment that she didn't win. Gabriel turned and looked at Dean with a smirk.

"Dean…you're the winner of this challenge! This means you will have immunity for next week's challenge," he said, and Dean almost laughed with relief, his stomach still trying to tie itself up in knots.

"Thank you," he said, and Michael smiled back at him.

"If you're ever in need of design work after you leave here, feel free to give me a call," he said, and fuck, did Dean just get a job offer from Michael fucking Astor? Really? Was this even real life?

"Balthazar, you are also safe. Very nice job this week, so keep that up, alright?" Gabriel said, and Balthazar just winked at him.

Great. Now they were going to have condom dress 2.0 or something.

"Meg…you should be glad you had immunity this week. But for now, you are safe."

The tension seemed to drain from Meg's shoulders as she nodded, though she still looked angry- or maybe that was her default expression. Dean had known she would be safe, though, and was already worrying about Benny as Gabriel turned his eyes on the bottom two.

"Benny…your dress this week was an all around failure. The fabric may have been an excuse for the questionable style to some degree, but there was no excuse for the mistakes made in your garment," he said before moving on to Jody. "Jody, we have been unimpressed with your work. You have unmistakable skill in tailoring a garment, but we're beginning to wonder if you're a designer, or just a seamstress."

Jody winced, and ouch, Dean couldn't blame her- that one had to hurt. No designer wanted to be called a seamstress; nothing wrong with being a seamstress, of course, but it was a far cry from being a designer.

"Benny," Gabriel said, and he let the name hang in the air for far too long, letting the cameras get the shots of the anxious designers before he spoke again. "I'm sorry, but you're out."

Dean blinked in surprise. Sure, it had been a fifty-fifty chance, but he'd really expected Benny to be the one going back to the apartments with them. To his credit, Benny handled it incredibly well, shaking hands with the judges and holding his head high as they all made their way back to the waiting room.

Tim immediately pulled Benny into a hug when he walked in the room. "Benny, I'm sorry. This just wasn't your challenge," he said, and Benny gave him a smile.

"Don't you worry none. I've got a girl back home waitin' on me," he said, pulling Dean into a tight bear hug, and then Castiel too.

"You two gotta kick ass in this, okay? I wanna see both of you in the finale, and Charlie, too," he said softly before saying his goodbyes to everyone else. Once all the goodbyes had been said, Tim sent Benny upstairs to start cleaning his space, and Tim gave Dean a bright smile.

"I knew you would do well in this challenge," he said. "You keep that drive from here on out, understand?"

Dean nodded and managed a smile, though it felt disingenuous after watching Benny leave. Up until now, he'd been kind of neutral as to the eliminations, but with every person that left, it meant a person with more talent would be going home the next week. Dean didn't want to see any of his friends walk out that door to gather their things. At the same time, if he managed to actually do what Benny told him to do, he'd have to watch most of them leave.

Confessionals took even longer today, though Dean had the feeling they'd get even longer as the competition went on. He was right in the middle, so he had to wait on ice while Meg, Castiel, Kevin, and Jody all cycled through before the producer called him back. It started out as normal, them having him do a present tense recollection of moments in the challenge, from Castiel helping him, to Chiffon the dog rat thing, to the party.

"So, do you think the right choice was made tonight?" the producer asked, and Dean hesitated and sighed.

"We're all great designers here, there's no question. Otherwise we wouldn't be here. But…I can't help but think that the wrong person went home tonight. Benny had so much talent and he didn't get much of a chance to show it. But who knows, maybe Jody will get back on track and kick all our asses."

"I'll bet it felt good to win, though."

Dean laughed. "Yeah, it…it felt good. Especially after hearing about the doubts people had about me, I feel like I've proven that I belong here."

"In your opinion, who are the top competitors here?"

"Well, there's no question that Castiel and Meg are both amazing designers. Charlie and Jo have great points of view in their work, and I always look forward to seeing what they make. And Kevin is some kind of prodigy, I don't even know," Dean said, biting his lip and thinking. "But yeah, I feel like it's still anyone's ball game. Ask me again after a few more challenges."

"You've still been awfully close with Castiel," the producer pointed out with a grin, and Dean shook his head.

"You're gonna throw that at me every time I'm in here, aren't you?" he asked, but the producer just waited, obviously trying to get something juicy out of him; gossip to spread among the other contestants, drama to stir up. "He's one of my best friends here, and we've both helped each other out in tight spots. Of course I hang out with him."

It wasn't the answer the producer wanted, but it was all he was going to get. Sure, Dean was beginning to wonder if he didn't have a bit of a crush on Castiel, but he wasn't about to gush to a camera about it; the producers would tell Castiel about it to try and force things along, then things would be awkward, and...ugh. He was relieved when the producer finally sent him back to the waiting room and called in the next person.

It was dark outside by the time they headed back to the apartments. They were all a little too hyped up from the elimination to sleep just yet, so Dean made everyone hot chocolate (turns out his mother's recipe was incredibly popular with his roommates), and they started to just relax and chat- until there was a knock on the door.

Kevin set his drink down and went to open the door, and outside stood…Balthazar. With two suitcases.

"Lost both my roommates. They're insisting I move in with you three so they don't have to keep paying on the other apartment," he said, rolling his eyes as he pulled his luggage inside. "What say we knock a few of the girls out of the competition so they have to suffer the close quarters too?"

"I'll drink to that," Kevin said, grabbing his hot chocolate again. Castiel was sipping at his, oddly quiet- but then again, Dean wouldn't be too happy either, if he found out he'd be rooming with Balthazar.

Maybe Dean should have roomed with Castiel from the start after all.


End file.
